Recipe for Boomerang Karma Cake

I've gotta wonder if my bad karma post yesterday boomeranged right back and hit me in the face....or if what transpired with my day yesterday was yet another one of those lovely life lessons intended to help me (insert air punctuation marks with fingers here) "grow".

I'm done growing.

Well ok, I'm not really, but damn, I'm tired of growing and would like to be done!!!

Hubby is very athletic, and has been training all summer for a national paddling competition which took place yesterday. I was very excited at the prospect of hanging out at the club and cheering him on. Enter ex-wife (hereafter known as "Knothead") with Frodo and Mini-Me in tow. Cool.

Except that I'm in one of those vulnerable states yesterday. You know the kind? That "I'm overweight-my-clothes-don't-fit-my-hair-is-limp-not-feeling-too-confident-and-oh-yeah-my-eggs-are-too-old-to-hatch" moods?

And within an hour, I've left the clubhouse in tears. Came home and journalled for about an hour, and have come to a new realization.

It's hard to watch the man you love with his family.

I realized that no matter how deeply I understand that I am the only woman who has ever actually entered his heart and soul, they share children, and they are, therefore, a family. He and I will never be able to share that as a first together. I was an outsider yesterday, and there wasn't anything that my husband did to create this feeling of alienation for me. It's just the way it is.

So, stir the alienation in with the impending realization that we may not ever have a child of our own, add a pinch of vulnerable state, ice with a heap of Knothead arrogant "I had him first" air, and the karma boomerang cake was ready to hit me square in the face.

Infertility is a big ol' piece of baggage on its own to deal with...that's for sure. Most days I'm able to have that pollyanna attitude of saying "well, at least we have Frodo and Mini-Me" but yesterday it wasn't there.

I'm incredibly blessed with this soulmate, handsome hunk of an emotional man-boy husband of mine though. The antidote for boomerang cake.

He came home after the races (three bronze medals by the way!) and listened while I bawled, cursed, called her names I won't write here, spewed hatred and frustration. He hugged me. And he cried with me. And he held my hand to his heart, and told me that we were family because true family has to involve the heart.

It didn't fix my step mess, but it sure helped my heart ... and took a bit of the boomerang icing sting from between my eyes.