Happiness & Thanksgiving

I posted a truncated version of this in my other journal but I wanted to expand on it a bit.

(I'm not sure when I'll go back to one journal, or what I'll do with them, but a topic for another time.)

I've always been a bit wary of people who talk about their children giving them purpose or who believe they were born to be parents or anything like that. I personally believe in the many-optioned universe (I could be this, or that, or that, or this and that) and that joy and happiness are to be found in many more places than we give them credit for. I also, because of issues in my family and I suppose observation of a few others, have sometimes found that the parents who are the most sure of themselves are the ones that I consider might be doing damage to their kids.

Because having a child in one's family is about the child, not the adult, at least that's my airbrushed theory. In fact it's both, but I think it's always, always, always critical to remember that you raise a child for the child; that it's not about bringing you glory or even happiness but about the sacred (in the vague sense, not a particular religion) responsibility of protecting and teaching and supporting a vulnerable human being. So that they can become who they are, and not who you wanted or what you ordered up in your mind when you were drawing up the blueprints of your life.

Since I really believe this it makes me a bit sheepish to admit that I feel - so right, and I dare say rather replete with rightness - to be spending my day singing kid songs and dancing around with a baby in my arms and figuring out how to tell when Noah's had enough of the swing. Some of it's hard. Sometimes I really would like say, a couple of days at work with shopping at lunch time and dinner out afterwards and a break. It was a long weekend here and although that meant Carl had more time with us, it didn't change a whole lot. No sleeping in for the holiday! No expanse of time to clean out all my drawers! (My traditional Thanksgiving activity.)

It seems quite scary to say this because of course Noah will now die, or some other tragedy will occur, because we can't have happy. But I'm happy. I'm happy in the way I was when I found the right job, the way I feel when I've met the right people. It's disgustingly stereotypical but so true. Noah, you are what I was waiting for. And Emily - god, I miss you.