Not all gloom

My last few posts have been perhaps a bit vent-y and full of whinging. I’m not going to apologize because sometimes a person needs to vent and whinge and this is my space to write about the things I seldom discuss with anyone in real life, but my life is hardly all gray drizzle and sorrows.

So this is a sort of “count your blessings” post even though I am ambivalent about the “count your blessings” type of memes that are currently tumbling around online. I’m not adverse to counting blessings, but always included in this activity seems to be the idea that we should be grateful because others have it worse. This, I’m not comfortable with. Yes, we take many things for granted and witnessing the misfortune of someone else can make us grateful for things we probably should have been grateful for all along, but the purpose of misfortune (if there is one – I’ll leave that to you) isn’t to spur gratitude in others. It might be a silver lining of misfortune, I guess, but that’s as far as I’ll budge. And sometimes it seems like the compare and contrast method of gratitude borders on the exploitative. So, while I’m grateful for my blessings, there are more blessings I’d like. And I’d like it if everyone had access to a nice, reliable base-line of blessings that included general good health, access to food, and assurance of personal safety.

I’m using the word “blessings” a lot even though it’s a problematic word and one that always stirs up all kinds of doubts and questions in my mind. I think that’s because it’s gloriously autumn here and this is the time of year when I feel most connected to the world and as though I am actually being blessed by something huge and benevolent. I’m grateful for autumn, then, for a start. For me September and October are full of beauty and release and relief, and the smell of leaves and the bite in the air make me feel like all will be well. Maybe this only works if you enjoy winter, too?

I’ve been walking to work two days a week for the past six weeks, and it’s so very good for me. I get more done and feel better about what I do. Also, endorphins. Also, it’s propelled me into a health kick that includes giving up my beloved Diet Coke and my regular dates with Ben & Jerry. This may not sound particularly indulgent, but having time – even for walks, and mental space to focus on myself – even for semi-tyrannical dietary changes, feels indulgent.

The hot water tap in the bathroom now works really well, and I’m so grateful to my dad for spending half a day replacing our faucet. I’m grateful that I have parents who drive out to visit and fix things and cook and connect with Dot and who love me unconditionally. I thought that loving unconditionally was just what parents did, but I’ve met some who don’t, or who can’t, and (here I am comparing again) it’s made me realize that my parents are quietly but undeniably amazing.

I am glad that I can make my daughter giggle and that there are still times she likes to cuddle.

I’m glad that I can make my way through a play date for Dot. I am still searching for good friends where I am, but I can carry on a reasonably friendly conversation for at least long enough for Dot to get some play time in with other kids, and for me that’s not nothing. We are having two families we’re thinking of cultivating as friends (sheesh, that sounds calculating!) over for pumpkin carving soon, and I’m hoping at least some of my visions of familial bonding and mulled cider and fun will be realized. It’s hard to go wrong with jack o’ lanterns, after all.

Here’s to a mostly happy October for everyone.

 

 

Watermelon Welcome

Dot’s school had a “watermelon welcome” event for the kids and their families. N was working, but I was there, of course, and she had a great time showing me her many tricks on the climbers and slides while playing with her friends. There were lots of kids there, lots of kids with siblings. Lots of baby brothers and baby sisters. Do you see where this is going?

And I hid behind a tree because now I miss Teddy, who should have been there, teasing his little sister. And I miss the baby who will never be because I’m responsible and reasonably unselfish when it comes to making decisions for my family. I want that baby, whoever he or she might be. And I started crying at the damned watermelon table but didn’t want Dot (or anyone else) to see me.

Someone told me that I should just go ahead and try for another, that money stuff always works itself out. This, from my perspective, is a fairly privileged viewpoint. Of course you work it out and do what you have to do for a baby once that baby exists. Once that baby exists, their existence becomes a priority that other things – your career, your family’s movement toward financial stability, your lack of bankruptcy, your oldest (living) child’s chances of going to college – can be sacrificed to support. But our income is too high to qualify for any sort of assistance, and our debt is too high to allow for much savings or “discretionary income.” We wouldn’t be giving up trips to Hawaii or Friday nights at the steakhouse or gifts of fine jewelry. We already go meatless on more than Mondays, and we drive a small compact (to be paid off this coming summer!). So we’d be giving up Dot’s college fund, my credit rating, possibly my job and income, possibly N’s chances of finishing & defending his diss, possibly (because of stress and money and time) our marriage. It would work out, but the way it worked out would likely hurt people I love and for whom I’m responsible. So the person who told me that can…bite my budget spreadsheet.

I’ve tried not being bitter about this, but I am. I’ll get over it. It’s something I can get over, I think, not like losing Teddy. But it hurts, and I’m fed up with things that hurt. I want a cookie, and a warm cup of tea, and three wishes.