Skip to main content

I'm a hazard to myself

It's Sunday.

I want to write something sweet and lovely and uplifting.

But I can't think of anything.

Today when I was getting ready for church, I put on a sparkly black shirt I bought last year.  I liked the psuedo-Asian feel of it and the bell sleeves.  And I wore it once (for a Christmas concert with the MCC).  And today it doesn't fit.  Sadly, it's not way too big.  It's too small.  And that made me angry with myself.  

The kids are outside fighting playing.  It's a beautiful, warm day with a vast blue sky that stretches out forever. 

But I am sitting inside.  (With no plans to change that.)

And Carly just came in with a very special rock from outside.  It's special, she says again before running off to set it on her dresser.  She is sure to pirouette along the way. 

I am jealous of her light-hearted-ness.

"Why are you guys inside!?" I ask, a little too loud, because both the kids have migrated inside.  I'm annoyed with them, frustrated with myself, and feeling a little bit sorry for myself.  Okay, a lot sorry for myself.

It's just one of those days where despite the goodness and grace that fills my life, I'm out of sorts and unhappy.

I think I need chocolate.

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

You know when you see someone again and it's been, like, forever, and you're not really even sure that you're getting their name right and you wonder WHAT on EARTH they've done to their hair/face/body/children and you can't quite find the right words to fill the gap between time and space?
My second year of teaching is just beginning - and isn't that a wonder?  Last year...let's just say, we all survived.  Last year involved:
- Commuting home (2 hours, one way) almost every weekend - The kids and I here (in Espanola, where I teach) while Eric stayed in Edgewood - Putting our (still for sale) house on the market - Two semesters of Master's classes (what was I thinking??? on the up side, I only have 1 semester left and I am DONE.  D. O. N. E.) - Saturday's spent in professional development - My first ever "work trip" to San Diego 
And this year:
- Josh is a Senior (whuuuut!) - Carly started 5th grade - We all live here in Espanola (double WH…