As someone who wants children and doesn't have them, I just expect to feel that more acutely on certain days than on others.
On Valentine's Day, I wish for a child to make heart-shaped pancakes and grilled cheese sandwiches for; to take to the store to buy those boxes of little paper Valentines to exchange with their classmates.
On Easter, I imagine how fun it would be to have a child to dye Easter eggs with, to create an Easter basket for; to turn them loose on Sunday morning for an Easter egg hunt.
On July 4th, I think about how nice it would be to have a little one running in our yard playing with our family that's gathered for a barbecue; to scoop them up and head to the river at dusk for fireworks and watermelon.
On Halloween, I long for a child to take out to O's pumpkin patch to choose their pumpkins for us to carve into jack-o-lanterns; to make a Halloween costume for and take trick-or-treating in their Aunt E's neighborhood.
On Thanksgiving, as I'm up early listening to the first of the holiday season's Christmas carols, I wish I had a child to make one of those "turkey hands" for me to proudly display on the fridge.
On Christmas, I daydream about decorating a small tree for our child's room and how they'd love the twinkling lights; about listening for Santa and wrapping presents for Daddy and our child getting to spend the entire day surrounded by family and friends who would love them so much.
(And yes, I realize that those images in my mind are extremely idealistic, but isn't that what daydreaming is all about?)
Anyway, during those times of year I just expect that I will feel my childless state a little bit more than usual.
But it's days like today that are even more difficult because they come out of nowhere.
We're expecting snow. Not a lot, but there is definitely anticipation in the air. I've sent O to the grocery store for milk and bread. We're Southerners. That's just what we do at the slightest threat of frozen precipitation of any kind.
Today I wish we had a child so we could be excited about the snow, looking out the window together waiting for it to start falling. I wish we had a child to wake up tomorrow morning with the news that "It snowed last night!" I wish we had a child hurrying to finish breakfast so we could go racing through our snow-filled pasture and wandering in our woods looking for animal tracks. I wish we had a child to teach how to make a snowman, and to eat snow cream with.
But we don't. Not yet, anyway. So I just do the best I can.
On Valentine's Day I send care packages to my girlfriends who don't have a "true love" in their life at the moment.
This Easter, I am making up two huge Easter baskets for my friend C's daughters. C is not only going through a divorce, but lost her job back in October and has no available funds for things like Easter baskets this year.
On July 4th, I invite friends to visit from out of state and make them a part of our family festivities.
On Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for the yearly autumn leaf drawings sent to us by our nieces in KY and a turkey drawn by our nephew.
On Christmas, I "adopt" as many children as we can afford, try to create magical Christmases for them, and then sit back on Christmas morning imagining their eyes lighting up as they open their gifts.
And tomorrow morning, I guess it will be just O & I, holding hands and wandering around in the field, catching snowflakes on our tounges, and trying to gather enough snow for snow cream. I will love every minute of it but won't be surprised if, at least once or twice, I'm reminded that someone is missing.
That is, if it snows at all.
You never know with our weathermen.
On Valentine's Day, I wish for a child to make heart-shaped pancakes and grilled cheese sandwiches for; to take to the store to buy those boxes of little paper Valentines to exchange with their classmates.
On Easter, I imagine how fun it would be to have a child to dye Easter eggs with, to create an Easter basket for; to turn them loose on Sunday morning for an Easter egg hunt.
On July 4th, I think about how nice it would be to have a little one running in our yard playing with our family that's gathered for a barbecue; to scoop them up and head to the river at dusk for fireworks and watermelon.
On Halloween, I long for a child to take out to O's pumpkin patch to choose their pumpkins for us to carve into jack-o-lanterns; to make a Halloween costume for and take trick-or-treating in their Aunt E's neighborhood.
On Thanksgiving, as I'm up early listening to the first of the holiday season's Christmas carols, I wish I had a child to make one of those "turkey hands" for me to proudly display on the fridge.
On Christmas, I daydream about decorating a small tree for our child's room and how they'd love the twinkling lights; about listening for Santa and wrapping presents for Daddy and our child getting to spend the entire day surrounded by family and friends who would love them so much.
(And yes, I realize that those images in my mind are extremely idealistic, but isn't that what daydreaming is all about?)
Anyway, during those times of year I just expect that I will feel my childless state a little bit more than usual.
But it's days like today that are even more difficult because they come out of nowhere.
We're expecting snow. Not a lot, but there is definitely anticipation in the air. I've sent O to the grocery store for milk and bread. We're Southerners. That's just what we do at the slightest threat of frozen precipitation of any kind.
Today I wish we had a child so we could be excited about the snow, looking out the window together waiting for it to start falling. I wish we had a child to wake up tomorrow morning with the news that "It snowed last night!" I wish we had a child hurrying to finish breakfast so we could go racing through our snow-filled pasture and wandering in our woods looking for animal tracks. I wish we had a child to teach how to make a snowman, and to eat snow cream with.
But we don't. Not yet, anyway. So I just do the best I can.
On Valentine's Day I send care packages to my girlfriends who don't have a "true love" in their life at the moment.
This Easter, I am making up two huge Easter baskets for my friend C's daughters. C is not only going through a divorce, but lost her job back in October and has no available funds for things like Easter baskets this year.
On July 4th, I invite friends to visit from out of state and make them a part of our family festivities.
On Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for the yearly autumn leaf drawings sent to us by our nieces in KY and a turkey drawn by our nephew.
On Christmas, I "adopt" as many children as we can afford, try to create magical Christmases for them, and then sit back on Christmas morning imagining their eyes lighting up as they open their gifts.
And tomorrow morning, I guess it will be just O & I, holding hands and wandering around in the field, catching snowflakes on our tounges, and trying to gather enough snow for snow cream. I will love every minute of it but won't be surprised if, at least once or twice, I'm reminded that someone is missing.
That is, if it snows at all.
You never know with our weathermen.
