Quick! Someone write a children’s book about having a sister who was placed with another family.
I doubt there would be much marketability for such a book. Right? And therefore it would never really get published, right? And so I’m just left to help these two little boys figure it out on my own. Right?
Unless I can manage to figure out how to write a whole SERIES of books on adoption written for children. But my understanding of adoption stops with domestic. Oh well. It’s a nice thought. Right?
… joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
-Kahlil Gibran
No wonder I can’t be bothered to make my bed. Either joy or sorrow are hiding beneath the lumpy mess anyway! I don’t want to disturb the slumber of sorrow, though, of course, it seems that I have and now joy won’t wake up despite the fact that my oldest son was bouncing all over the bed while I sat on the floor and cried yesterday afternoon.
It is interesting. My Husband has always said, “You take the good with the bad.” And this quote about joy and sorrow being so closely followed by one another makes me realize that I don’t like it when my Husband is right. Don’t tell him I said so. I won’t admit it. I’ll edit this entry. I will!
I was feeling fine. Life was rolling along. My oldest son was doing well in his foray into schooling. I got to have a nice little phone conversation with my daughter. My youngest son was doing cute new things like tackling his brother and playing peekaboo. And then, BAM! My grandfather died. And nothing made sense.
Was sorrow just slowly creeping out from under the covers? Did all of those really awesome things happen in such a short amount of time because I needed them to happen when they did in order to get through this cruddy time frame? Perhaps. I don’t know. I wish joy and sorrow weren’t in so close of cahoots with one another. I’d like warning from one or the other when the pendulum is about to swing in the opposite direction. I’m considering not answering my phone anymore. No more bad news, thank you very much.
Sorrow is apparently the insomniac walking the halls of my house right now will joy has curled up in bed for a nice long slumber. I’m not quite sure how to get sorrow to down some sleeping pills and get to bed. You know, since I can’t figure out how to get my oldest son to go back to bed right now either. (We’re deep in the “I need a drink of water,” “I need to pee,” “I just want to tell you I love you,” excuse phase of procrastinating sleep this week. Cute but draining.) I’m waiting for joy to jump out of bed. I’m waiting for the phone to ring with good news. Or an email. Or an instant message. Or something that lets me know this not all a waste.
I’m going to make my bed today.