Shopping for a family . . .

My friend, who was in the Navy, told me that there was time when men who visited the Philippines shopped for women in window storefronts as if they were clothing or electronics.  I remember being appalled.  Now, as I spend time - almost daily - trolling through online profiles, I remember his description of that process.  There are similarities.

I am spending my time . . . shopping for a family.  I’m looking for a man between 38 and 58 who has children.  Preferably, he will be raising children.  Having spent time as a step mother, I am stuck on the idea of nurturing and being nurtured by a family again.

It may be the end of my childbearing years . . . or it may be the beginning of my friend’s grandparental years that is driving this bus.  It's vaguely disturbing to realize that I am as interested in the children as the man.  It makes me question my motivation.

It’s not that I don’t want the man but I would really prefer the family. 

The years I spent planning meals, outings, presents, parenting strategies and logistics for our family seem, in retrospect, like a mix of the sublime and terrifying.  Making bacon with Meghan on Sunday mornings, biking with Brandon down to the railroad tracks and taking Taylor to the Twilight movies are some of the better memories of my life.  Picking blueberries on Saturday and canning jam with them the next day.  The three of them still tell the story of the day I got my foot stuck in the blueberry field and had to get down on my knees and pull my shoe out of mud a foot deep.  Thank goodness you can hose off crocs!

Biking!

Losing the children of your heart is incredibly painful.  As often as they triple timed me, on purpose, to push me to make a parenting mistake (How on earth do women with 3 or more children, all talking at once, not over-promise and under-deliver?) the first Easter that I hid eggs was worth all the tough times that came with the deal.  Christmas . . . just forget about it.  Unbelievable!

So, I am looking for the love of my life . . . but I am shopping for a family.

Snowman Pancakes Christmas Morning