Monday, June 17, 2002

My sweet husband,
I couldn't think of a more beautiful gift to our child than your own words of love and affection. I hope that he/she inherits your amazing gift of expression. I admire it so much. I love you for all that you are. And I couldn't and wouldn't be able to do something as sacred as have a baby with anyone but you. You are going to be a sensational father. I dream of watching you hold, care for, and play with our child. The thought just brings me such anticipated pleasure. We are so blessed, my love.

Friday, June 22, 2001

I got into my career because "I wanted to help people". I know that a lot of people have done the same thing. Now it's six years later. And I can count the number of times that I've accomplished that goal on one hand. The rest of my experiences have been a downward spiral into a hole of frustration, disillusionment, and heartbreak. God, I never thought I'd say something as depressing as that. But today was another exhausting Friday to end another exhausting week. There is nothing harder for me than to see young, innocent children struggling against their own bodies and minds as well as against the families they are born into. And I'm supposed to help them. Except that the problems and issues brought to my desk are getting more and more complicated, putting them further and further away from me. And what I believe it comes down to is "who can FIX these children in 6 months or less?" (that sounds like a twisted idea for a game show, what would be the prizes?) But how can you "fix" a child when you see them 1-2x per week for 45-60 minutes.....with a family who sees these visits as a chance to do laundry or watch TV.....when they live in a dirty, cluttered house with 2-4 other people in the other rooms.....when the parents have physical, emotional , or psychological problems of their own.....when administration (who, by the way, DO NOT have the degree that I spent 5 years working for) has the final say as to what you can provide.....when you have to spend the day driving from house to house in an area where blinkers are obsolete, speed limits are a four letter word, and turning lanes have become a third lane reserved for BMW's who are too good to wait in line with the rest of us Hondas! (uh oh, I think it's possible to have road rage even when you're not driving).....where the paperwork involves daily, monthly, and yearly reports on each and every child.....you get the picture. It's ironic. So many people say "wow, you get to play with kids all day - I want your job. And that was the biggest initial attraction for me. I mean, my "tools of the trade" consist of play dough, Mr. Potato Head, and Magna Doodles! But they're no longer games to me. I don't see them as fun anymore. I really resent feeling like that. I feel robbed of a part of my innocence that I felt lucky to have had last through my 20's. But maybe this is something else. Maybe I'm becoming a grown up. I mean, I'm not so blind. It's been happening gradually. First MTV became too "juvenile" for me. Then my 10 year high school reunion where I learned that our class clown is a SURGEON! And now all of the songs that I played on my Walkman while riding on the bus to school are considered "retro" rock!! OK, OK I'm calm now. Deep breath................I can do this.............I KNOW I can do this.......I'm ready to grow up. Because I have something I didn't have when I was younger and something that I don't get from my job. I have true love. TRUE LOVE. It actually happened and is continuing to happen - over and over, greater and greater, higher and higher. I'm ready, willing, and ever so able to commit to a man with whom I can create a life that does make sense. Where things like truth exisits and trust is petrified. Where love is the answer to every question or problem. And things are solved. And we get "fixed".
This is my first blog