Tag Archives: time travel

Perfect Moment Monday: Chinstrap time travel

Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.

Once a week we engage in mindfulness about something that is right with our world. Everyone is welcome to join. Details on how to participate are at the bottom of this post, complete with bloggy bling.

Please visit the links of the participants at the bottom.

Here’s a perfect moment from my week. I hope you’ll share yours, too.


This is a moment I plan to savor on my deathbed. I took care to emblazon it on my psyche.


Each morning since school began, the kids and I strap on our helmets, mount our bicycles and ride ¾ mile to their school. I make sure they’re OK locking up their bikes in the bicycle cage and then I pedal home. At the end of the school day, I zoom back to school, meet them at the cage, and we ride home together. In just two weeks this has become a treasured ritual. We get fresh air, exercise, a joint activity, and time to talk while in motion.

Friday morning, the kids were already on their bikes while I was still putting on my helmet. They buzzed around our circle waiting for me. It was a beautiful sunny morning, temps in the mid 60s. The grass is still green, the heavens a gorgeous azure, the flowers vibrantly colorful, the air so clean you want to inhale the entire sky into your lungs. I paused to notice, really notice, what was going on.

And then a curious thing happened, in the mere time it takes to click a chinstrap.

I marveled that the two teeny-tiny babies that I’d schlepped in infant car seats, that I’d toddled down driveways, that I’d left, crying with separation anxiety, in pre-school classrooms, that these two amazing beings had become such independent, active and generally happy children. In the blink of an eye, a filmstrip covering 9+ years of parenting ran through my mind.

And the phenomenon continued, from the present day forward. I could see Tessa, her legs splayed in the “wheeee” position while she coasted the arc of the circle, sporting braces, then wearing a formal dress and corsage with her right hand on her date’s chest in the classic prom-photo pose. I could see Reed, working on his wheelies, in a gown with a mortarboard atop his head and diploma in hand as he graduates from my alma mater. I see them each in wedding-wear, gazing with devotion into their beloveds’ eyes, then becoming parents themselves, teaching their children, my grandchildren, to ride bikes.

Best of all? I returned to right now. This perfect, delicious, endless moment with my children.

I am so lucky.


To participate in Perfect Moment Monday:

  1. Between Sunday night and Tuesday night, write up your own Perfect Moment in a blog post, on Twitter, on Facebook, or simply leave a comment below.
  2. Grab the URL of your Perfect Moment.
  3. Use LinkyTools below to enter your blog’s name and the URL of your Perfect Moment
  4. Visit the Perfect Moments of others (from the links below), and let the writers know you were there.

Once you make a Perfect Moment post , you may place this button on your blog.

What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of? Be sure to visit these moments and share the love, and please come back next week (click to subscribe).


Open Adoption Parenting: What I Hope My Children Say One Day

Open adoption bloggers are meeting at the roundtable to ponder these questions:

Imagine your child as an adult describing their open adoption experience. What do you hope they will be able to say about you? How did you view their other parents? In what ways did you support their relationship with them?

June 1, 2031

Dear Mom,

See? I waited until I was all grown up — 28! — to get married, have sex, and start a family. In that order.

But first I became self-sufficient in my chosen career. I married only because I wanted to (and because my partner is a wonderful person), not because I needed someone to take care of me.

Anyway, now that I’m a mom, I understand a little bit more about what it took to raise me. I want to tell you that I thank you for keeping Crystal and Joe in my life. Being with them always felt good, and I’m glad you didn’t feel threatened by the bond I have with them. It means the world to me that you love them, because that freed me to love them and to love myself.

Also, I appreciate that you let me talk about adoption stuff when I wanted to, but didn’t bring it up all the time. Even though you wrote about it ALL.THE.TIME.

If the sleepovers I had with Crystal and Tyler [birth brother] or with Joe and his family were hard for you, you never showed it. I have always felt fully connected to my birth family and, of course, fully connected to you and Daddy and Reed.

It hasn’t always been easy, having two sets of parents, but you made it as easy for me as you could. I love you so much for that. And for grounding me for only a week that time I took your car without permission on my way to work at the soup kitchen.

Love always,


June 1, 2031

Dear Mama,

I suspect that you often wondered if you were handling all this adoption stuff well. My sister’s birth parents were around in the early years and mine weren’t, and you worried if this was hurting me.

Sometimes it did.

But I never felt slighted. Crystal and Tyler and Joe and his family always included me. And then you found AJ and brought him into my life. Later, Michele resurfaced and told me my adoption story herself. It helped me to understand, even though sometimes it was hard.

Do you remember that day in the car? I told you I didn’t want to talk about my birth parents any more because it made me sad. I remember you told me that you wouldn’t bring it up again for awhile, but that if I ever wanted to talk about it with you I could. I appreciated that.

So even though it sometimes hurt, I am thankful that you sat with me during the times I was hurting. You didn’t minimize my feelings or gloss over them. And somehow I didn’t get stuck in the hurt.

It means a lot to me that you always spoke respectfully of Michele and AJ and that you provided contact with them when they were ready.

I love you, Mama. Thank you for always loving me so completely. I’ll be over on Sunday to mow your lawn.


For other open adoption bloggers’ thoughts on this, visit Production Not Reproduction.

And for even more recent bloggers’ thoughts on talking with kids about adoption, visit AdoptionTalk (2016)

My Watershed Moment: the Breakthrough I Needed to Become a Mom

October, 2000. I am on the therapist’s table. She leads me to a relaxed state of deeper consciousness. She asks me to look at my shoes. I do.

They have buckles, and my story flows forth. I am 14 years old, living with my parents in a place that’s cold with a dirt floor. I have just gotten what Mother calls “the Curse.” It frightens me at first, the blood.

The therapist guides me to the next significant event. Now I am 19, and my parents and the community are gathered at my wedding. The groom is a kind, balding man with spectacles. My parents have chosen him for me. The therapist asks what I think of this arranged marriage: “It’s what we do.”

Another scene. My son is 7. Josiah has piercing blue eyes and brings me joy. He is out with my husband (his father) one day working the fields. A horse is spooked and kicks Josiah in the head.

For 14 years I take care of my once-vibrant, bedridden, now simple son. I blame my husband for this life lost, even though I know it was an accident. We don’t have another child because to me, children = pain. I am called “barren.”

Despite my ministrations, Josiah dies as a young adult.

I live a numb life.

The therapist brings me to my own funeral. It is in a bleak church with no color — only shades of earth. There is nothing remarkable about my passing. It is a relief. The mourners are there because “it’s what we do.”

The therapist alerts me to some beliefs I carry:

  • Life is bleak
  • Children bring pain.
  • There is little room for self-direction. We are carried by the thought, “it’s what we do.”

Once I am aware of these beliefs, we release them. Ethel, the therapist, is an energy worker, and she brings me to a decision point where I can choose to carry or not carry these beliefs with me in my current life.

I get off the table and ask for time to journal. She concludes our session with a huge glass of water to help move the energetic debris we dislodged.

So, was this an actual past life or not? Or was it just another way — like Freudian free-association or Jungian dream interpretations or a Rorschach test — to glimpse the unconscious beliefs I carried and that thwarted my desired to be a mom?

And does it matter?

I felt immediate relief after that session. I was lighter, unshackled, empowered. I can tell you that from that point on, we had smooth sailing.

That week we chose an adoption agency and resolved to complete the HUGE application packet by the first of the year. Right after New Year’s, we turned it in.

Three months later our daughter was born. Because, among other things, I cleared the way.