Candy Clay Wrap Up

O.K so this is only about 2 months late.  But, I did want to do a brief report about my fabulous candy clay idea for my son’s candy theme birthday party.  It was not all I dreamed, but who could dream this?

I switched to colored melting disks made by Wilton.  (dumb.)  I thought it would be cool to have a lot of colors for the kids to play with especially since I was unsure about the ability of the food color markers to work on the surface of the oily candy.  So, in order to get a lot of colors, we had a LOT of candy clay.  I’m talkin’ pounds folks!

The only new and useful thing I have to tell you is this: when the instructions say to melt gently, them mean “uber” gently.  This stuff separated so badly that I was certain I would need to pitch it.  I spent a lot of time kneading the candy with my silpat mat to get it to come back together again, and was able to save most of it.

So the big Saturday arrives and I am well stocked with candy clay.  The day looks iffy weather-wise.  It has rained for days and there is only a chance that it will clear up.  I have mixed feelings about this.  On one hand, this means the clay project will take place in the dining room where I have nearly white carpeting.  On the other hand, I hate the carpet and have been neglecting it for years in the hopes that it will get so bad we will have no choice but to replace it.  This could be my big chance.

Party time, the rain stops.  The kids, who all have been cooped up for days due to rain and the start of school, go outside and play without giving the candy clay a second glance. (Who can blame them.)  The are all polite kids so they did give it a brief go.  I think only one kid actually completed some sort of sculpture, that he forgot to take home with him.  I was a little disappointed, but the rest of the party went really well, so who can complain.

The party gods were certainly on my side though.  That evening S started to complain of a sore throat.  Early Monday he was diagnosed with strep throat.  So my little project that would’ve meant lots of germ-my hands playing in moist candy to be eaten later would’ve been the perfect way to infect a group of children, except the great outdoors were a greater temptation. Huzzah!  No one who was at the party got sick.  How great is that!  (But I’m still stuck with this awful carpet.)

Another Month

Another month has gone by and where am I?  Un-tethered, adrift.  Mostly un-motivated.  I would say that I’m sort of sleep walking through my days, but that would mean I’d feel better rested, right?

Readjusting to work has been hard and slow.  It has a been a busy and tumultuous time there;  a challenge without the additional stress of our adoption woes.  I am dealing with it all pretty well right now, but I’ve noticed that I get flustered and stressed more easily.  And that I’m likely not to care when I should.  I’m normally pretty invested in my work, but not now.  And I just feel tired.

On top of it all I’m starting to have guilt over my sadness.  I have so much for which to be thankful.  What right do I have to be sad when there is so much real suffering in the world.  And still, I feel like I’m being cheated out of something I deserve.  I feel like I’m a really good parent.  Why is it I have to go without children I really want when there are people who have kids they don’t want, abort children they don’t want, or just ignore or abuse the children they have?  

I don’t have to go without though.  I have just lost the energy for the fight.  It is just so ironic to me that I have to fight so hard for what others come by accidentally. I can’t help but think that we are being cruel to our daughters by giving them baby dolls from the moment they are physically able to hold them.  Sure our daughters dream about being princesses and pop-stars and all sorts of impossible (or at least highly unlikely) things.  But after a time, they grow to see the impossibility of these things on their own.  And then, about the time they have cast off their tiaras, we reinforce the dream of motherhood by explaining to them that they are each capable of a greater miracle.  But we never once tell them that there is the possibility that becoming pregnant may be just as impossible as becoming a princess.  Yes, it would be hard to hear, hard for us to say, but shouldn’t they know?  

When I was working through IVF I had friend who was going through a difficult pregnancy.  Her life was in jeopardy as well as the child’s.  As I listened to another friend describe what was happening I suddenly realized that even if I became pregnant via IVF I was still not “home free”.  There was still the possibility that I or the child, or both might have complications or even die.  The reality hit me hard and suddenly.  I had to leave the room to compose myself.  How I wish that some one had told me or even just gave me something to read so that I could ease into that idea. Or just always have known in the same way that we are taught to tell our children about adoption from the time they are very young, so they just always knew.