First: we survived Christmas, Elf and all, and although at one point the 7 year old had a meltdown and declared it THE WORST CHRISTMAS EVER (because she opened a box of clothes I bought her), it was a pretty good holiday. Not one handmade gift I had planned made it to the finish line, except for a hat and sweater that I knit for one of my daughter’s teachers who is expecting a baby. Knitting each kid something was a laughable goal, really, especially since I keep starting new things instead of finishing something. I am *close* to completing a sweater for my 3-year old cousin, but in full transparency this is the third sweater in two years that I have been close to completing for him, and I’m about to run out of yarn.

Second: Happy New Year! I wish I had something thoughtful and profound to share about my goals for the coming year, or even a word to focus on. The trouble is that when you are 53, with three small-ish children, you are pretty much always in survival mode just getting from one minute/hour/day to the next. There’s not much time for navel-gazing, which is really unfortunate when you are the sort of person who loves nothing more than to sit and think – even though it often turns to ruminating over things that are really best left alone. Whether it’s anxiety or latent ADHD or menopause, my brain nowadays just won’t shut up unless I’m doing something like knitting or sewing patchwork, when I can get into a groove and just focus on the task at hand. Plus, with the kids, instead of philosophizing or plotting unwritten novels in my head I have oodles of more mundane things to obsess over. What shall I worry about today, I wonder? The better question is probably what WON’T I worry about, because the list is always a mile long.

And yet, amongst all that background noise, the same things I’ve obsessed about and agonized over for decades still crop up from time to time (alas, I am no goldfish). The New Year is ripe for this sort of thing, as is the start of school every fall. Those times of year when you think, it’s all going to be different this year! I’m going to do X, Y and Z instead of A,B and C and it’s all going to be great! The anticipation is always better than the reality, because we all know that within a couple of weeks we all settle right back into being our actual, complicated selves. And change is hard for us humans, especially for those of us who are sensitive to seasonal changes. For me, it’s also complicated because from September to the middle of February are the hardest days because of the light (or lack thereof), and even medicated I just basically white knuckle it until the sun starts to stick around a bit longer and a bit brighter.

But! This is supposed to be a blog about finding joy, not wallowing in seasonal funkiness and the might-have-beens of past Lori (even thought that is the reality of the moment). And there is joy to be had amongst the mismatched sock pile! I am excited that this month the adoption of our foster daughter will be finalized, and even though it comes with A LOT of complicated feelings we are grateful that she finally has permanency with us. People like to glorify adoption but it’s the result of trauma and loss, and I promise you that we do not see ourselves as saviors of anyone — we have a lot of love, but we also are willing to hold our daughter’s hand and keep her connected to her safe bio relatives while also helping her find her place in our own family. To quote Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home”, and I feel that in a very visceral sense with her. It’s hard at times, and it’s not all roses and sunshine, and we have made mistakes along the way, but we keep trying because this little girl is just the bravest and sweetest thing you’ve ever met (wild, mind you, but sweet). Now we can finally think about planning a celebration for later in the year as she wants a bounce tent, and even with global warming winter in Maine just isn’t bounce house friendly.

Practically speaking, since our daughter has been with us for 2+ years our day-to-day existence doesn’t change but certain things become a lot easier. For example, we will be able to travel out of state without getting permission from DHHS anymore, which means I can bring the girls to see my family in MA or go to NH more often (Storyland, Santa’s Village, etc.). Because we have our daughter’s half-brother, who is still in foster care, DHHS doesn’t go away completely but it definitely decreases; for example, instead of two caseworkers visiting monthly it will only be one. (I honestly don’t mind those visits, it’s just hard to schedule!) Most importantly, I don’t have to say “our foster daughter” anymore – she’ll just be our daughter, and that makes me happy.

Watching: The Gavin & Stacey finale. If you’ve never watched this show please do — it’s a British comedy and not one for kids, but it’s one of my favorite shows ever. I have watched the finale 4 times and I still don’t know how I feel about it.

Listening: The Weepies. Years ago I used to take the commuter rail every day from the suburbs into Boston for work, and I used to listen to The Weepies on my ipod a lot. I genuinely do not know how I managed the commute, except to say that I was single and childless and spent most of my time pining over some dumb boy or another, and the train ride gave me OODLES of time to ruminate. But! When my daughter was born, I used to sing her the song Somebody Loved and it made me happy — it sounds like a lullaby, even though it isn’t, and the lyrics are much more about a romantic relationship than the parental sort. Still, when I was 8 months pregnant the heat in our apartment DID go out, and I did sometimes feel like we were dancing together – her in my belly. But mostly, while people certainly loved me before she came along it was her that turned me into a mother, which is an entirely different sort of love altogether.

Rain turns the sand into mud
Wind turns the trees into bone
Stars turning high up above
You turn me into somebody loved

Nights when the heat had gone out
We danced together alone
Cold turned our breath into clouds
We never said what we were dreaming of
But you turned me into somebody loved

Someday when we’re old and worn
Like two softened shoes
I will wonder on how I was born
The night I first ran away from you

Now my feet turn the corner back home
Sun turns the evening to rose
Stars turning high up above
You turn me into somebody loved

~Deb Talan & Steve Tannen