Anyway, a few nights ago as Michael and I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, he says to me: 'Alright, you've got to stop thinking so much!' Yeesh. I wasn't exactly causing a racket or anything. In fact, I was completely minding my own business -- but apparently emanating something that was making it difficult for him sleep. I immediately tried to stop, but it is hard to shut my mind down sometimes. (I think this is because I must be border-line genius. Border-line something, anyway.) Anyway, I'll admit I've had a lot on my mind these days. But what can I say, other than remind myself that all things are passing.
I must also remind myself that two tubes of my favorite lipsticks getting smashed up and broken (courtesy Miss Milia) are not the end of the world. Neither is pulling out Michael's new shirt from the dryer only to find it covered with stains. (Seriously, no idea how that happened. I really liked that shirt, too. And apparently so did Emilia, because for some reason she started to cry when she saw it.) And I suppose it is not the end of the world when our little girl comes barreling through the house wearing her wellies that are covered in dog poop. All this within an hour or so, mind you.
Anyway, as we walked by all the departments in Nordstrom, I, being a weak and deplorable creature, decided to go and try on a top. (In my defense, it was steeply discounted. However, I am supposed to be on a controlled experiment right now.) The fitting room was huge and brightly lit with a pedestal to stand on, so that one could see one's new (and steeply discounted) top from all angles. It also came with a pair of exceedingly high Jimmy Choos that Emilia immediately put on and began modeling -- whilst teetering on said pedestal. After we paid for the stupid top (did I mention that it was steeply discounted?), we were about to start walking out to the car when Emilia points out the restaurant. 'Should we maybe go and get some lunch maybe?' And I smiled, because that was a fabulous idea.
While we sat, Emilia with her pasta and fruit, Mama with her grilled veggie salad, and a big plateful of french fries between us, I nearly started to cry. Because the gratitude that this little person fills me up with is almost too much to take sometimes. I simply cannot imagine our lives without her. That being said, it was getting late. We still needed to run into the grocery store and get our behinds home for naptime.
As we stood in the check-out line at QFC waiting our turn, I looked at all the covers of the tabloid magazines they had on display. The most prominently displayed was People Magazine, with a headline reading: 'We really miss our baby.' Apparently it is all about a sixteen year old girl and her boyfriend who chose to give their baby up for adoption. This is all documented in some wretched reality show, which, thankfully, I have never seen. There is a big picture of this young couple on the front of the magazine, with a smaller picture next to it. This smaller picture is also of the couple -- with the adoptive parents and the baby (now a toddler) next to them. And to be perfectly honest, when I saw this, I wanted to throw up. How bloody irresponsible of People Magazine (and all of the tv networks) who are glorifying all of this. This is not entertainment -- I don't care how many makeovers are involved. And as lovely as this young couple undoubtedly are -- they need to back off. Because I'm sorry, this is no longer their story. It is the story of the child who was given up. And it upsets me to no end that this child is being paraded around in this manner. Seriously, how can the adoptive parents abide this? I'm guessing they are contractually obligated to abide it. But really, why does everyone want to be famous -- at any cost?
We, too, have a very open adoption. (Obviously it's nothing like theirs, but still quite open, nonetheless.) And to be perfectly honest, it has been both a blessing and a very painful challenge for all involved. Having a relationship with the birth family is an amazing thing and we love them all dearly. Yet I will make no bones about it -- it has been very difficult. I know there is still so much pain in the decision that was made nearly three years ago when we first met. And I do not expect that to go away any time soon. However, I do think it will get easier over time. Once a few more years are added on, college is done, having a nice walk down the aisle, and then -- a family of one's own.
Because really, while genetics are very difficult things to argue with -- so is being the one who changes the diapers.
Oh, how I remember the day. I had all three kids in the bathtub. I was doing my hair and makeup to be ready to take one to preschool. So I look over and notice that there are a lot of extra bubbles in the tub. And that there was an empty bottle of shampoo floating in the mix. Back then, I really could not afford to buy an extra bottle of anything, let alone shampoo. My husband was in the military and his hair was so short a bit of bar soap from his shower did the trick for him. So anyway, back to my story. I finished my hair, which was long and took a while before I rescued the kids. As I reached into the tub to get the first kid out their arms and legs were so slippery that I kept missing them. So, I decided to get a good grip with both hands, forgetting that the floor just might be slippery too. Yes, you guessed it. There I went head first up to my waist. We were late that day.
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