Through Rose Colored Glasses Darkly

I saw the Woman With the Empty Stroller–and it wasn’t empty!  She was obviously behind schedule, heading in the opposite direction from my usual vantage point.  There was a small child in the seat, both of them on their way to wherever they go.  I have no idea who this woman and her child are, but seeing them together was like seeing a unicorn.  I might have actually exclaimed something to Bella in the backseat.  The stroller isn’t empty!  It is full!  She doesn’t understand, my three-year-old.  She, blissfully unaware, sucking her thumb, looking out the window, has no idea what this means.

Also:  I have no idea what this means.  Logically, this means precisely nothing other than a woman takes her child somewhere in the morning and then runs back home.  But I have to make it mean something.  It must be a sign!  Must.  … Because.  It has to mean something good and promising and affirming to do with ME and MY existence.  Because it’s all about me.  What is THIS anyway?  A blog.  Agh!  Just the word blog irritates the living daylights out of me.  Something I SWORE I would never get into.  Twice.  Only needy, self-absorbed, positive reinforcement-requiring people write blogs.

Exhibit A.

Except cooking blogs that inspire really entertaining movies.  And blogs that make me laugh.  And travel blogs.  Those are cool.  Moving on…  Great expectations.  That’s the cliff I throw myself from daily.  If I can just release my own plans from the white knuckled grip I keep on them things would probably go a lot smoother.  I need to be content with what and whom I have–which is to say:  I have EVERYTHING.  Christina Charmed Life Fishburne, what is your freaking problem?

Answer:  You have no problems.

I come to the conclusion periodically that my diet is unsatisfactory and that I need to make some healthy adjustments.  In every case, EVERY case, as soon as I finish the proclamation in my head I immediately need a piece of cake.  A week ago I decided it was time to get my snacking under control and get back to a regular exercise routine.  Since that time I have ordered pizza twice, made two cakes and one pie, and cut the portion of my workout that I hate the most three times.  The moment I think I can’t have something I want it more.  I don’t believe this is a great revelation regarding humanity.  And –SHOCKER!– I’ve noticed some striking similarities in other aspects of my life.

Do I want another baby so badly just because I haven’t been able to have one as easily as I’d anticipated?  (Do I remember the reality of such an event?)

Do I envision my days SO MUCH EASIER once Bella is in school simply due to the fact that it appears she will NEVER poop in a toilet and be allowed into a classroom?  (For all intents and purposes, she’s my “baby”–why wish her away as quickly as possible?)

Am I unable to accept that it might be pleasant to live on a beautiful island for a while because I’ve told myself (quite sternly) “You must hate it here!”  (“Does not the appetite alter?”)

Bottom line:  I don’t know what any of this means.  And it’s likely I won’t know for quite some time.  So in the interim, the plan shall involve gratitude, contentment, and appreciation of the present before it becomes the past.  And it will absolutely involve the occasional confection.  I can’t wear blinders.  I don’t have the figure for them.  But I can adjust the lens I look through.  There is more to come, and whatever it is I’d like to be in good shape when I meet it.



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