Skip to main content

Sunday Confessional

I think flameless candles are stupid. 

I hate it when people post "miracle" pregnancy stories. 

I totally believe in miracles. 

I am pretty spiteful and mean in my head.

I do a lot of things out of fear.

My feelings got really badly hurt a few weeks ago.  It's hard to suck it up.

I am so glad it is the end of the semester.  I love being in school, but I'm tired.  It's a lot of work.  I underestimated how much work it would be.

I don't like how much I yell.

I wish I was a better mother.

I hate being shy.

I'm often play "what if" scenes out in my head.  What if Eric died.  What if I published a book.  What if we had to move again.  What if what if what if...

I don't like wasting time on anger.  

I wish I didn't get angry so easily.

I wish I had as much faith in myself as I have in my children.

This list was much more serious than I intended.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I want another list, perhaps one to Santa explaining the good things you've done to deserve that Kindle, and chocolate, and an extra set of car keys (because you DO deserve them).

Just a few follow up items to consider to based on your inputs:

1. How is it possible to have a flameless candle - no flame no candle, that "invention" can only be an electric scent expeller or an electric light poser stick.
2. Every pregnancy is a miracle, and an even greater miracle is any kid who survives to be a parent.
3. You should do things out of fear - I have a hangar with your name on it!
4. Sorry if I hurt your feelings, and if it was not me I want a hint so I can use a hangar on the meanie.
5. I'm stuck trying to figure out how you could be a better mom, except maybe having more pumpkin pie around the house (the kind with sugar included).
6. I want to hear some good/fun/silly what if scenes - yours and the kiddies. For example "what if Eric dyed his hair pink".
Harmony said…
Okay, so Anon is right that "every pregnancy is a miracle," But, come on. I know what you mean and I hate it too.

Especially when a certain friend of mine has 4 "miracle" pregnancies. Really? 4 miracles? And she considers herself infertile? Oh geez, don't get me started...

:)

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…

Dear Carly (on your 9th birthday),

I can't remember what it is like to turn nine years old.  From watching you turn nine, it must have been difficult because it seems like everything is either really, really greator really, really bad.  Some days I think I might get whiplash from the mood swings (and you're not a teenager yet!).   But overall, I think nine must also be really wonderful.  You seem to be full of joy, even moments after being full of woe.  It's as if the joy just pushes the other stuff out.  It practically oozes from your pores.  More than that, on the days you choose to be happy, the whole world sings with you.  People are infected by it, drawn in to your sweet smile and shining eyes.  Attracted like bugs to a light.  You shine, dear little diva, so brightly sometimes it's blinding.

We just spent three weeks together in California, and I must have complained too much about your behavior because your dad believes we are oil and water right now.  I'd prefer to see us as oil and vinegar …