7 Year Itch

Today is my second son's birthday; he's 7. He has been so excited all week that sometimes he actually bounces with glee. When this happens, he looks at me and says, "Sorry mom, I'm just sooooo excited" and begins to giggle and jiggle all over again.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of him running around upstairs at 4 something in the morning. By the time I brought him downstairs for breakfast & gifts, I thought his head might just explode. I've got to say, I can't think of any time that I was that excited about anything, especially not getting older.

And now, as my "little guy" stretches taller and leaner, I'm getting the itch for another child. Maybe it's the Saundra Bullock announcement. Maybe it's the fact that my second (and last) child has hit that awkward size when snuggling into your lap becomes more a poking of sharp knees and elbows than a cuddling of rounded baby.

My husband isn't exactly on board with the adoption idea. It isn't that he's cold or uncaring; he's just cheap. Honestly, I don't know what the cost might be but the last time I looked it wasn't pretty. I'm sad and angered by the idea that someone like me -- relatively normal and all -- could long for a child and be deterred by the cost of all things.

Still, this is something I've wanted for a long, long time. Before I was ever married I wanted to adopt a child. Now, with this latest birthday, that longing beat in my heart is picking up speed and impact. I'm not sure what will happen next, but I can say that I've never wanted anything this much and not gotten it. . .

For now, I will focus on the day and the celebration of the beautiful, healthy sons that I have. I will run around like a psycho cleaning only to have the children from the sleepover destroy my efforts in a single night. I will retrieve cupcakes from the local grocery store and deliver them like an angel from sugar heaven to the children in my son's class. But in the recesses of my mind, the wheels are in motion and I can tell you, I feel a plan brewing in the old noggin.

In fitness news,
I struggled this morning in my weight lifting class; the glass of shiraz two nights in a row was ill-advised apparently. Still, 274 calories were knocked out in 55 minutes and I cranked out a set of dead lifts/rows and tricep presses/extensions that I am truly proud of. Oh, and the barbecue chicken sandwiches were a major hit yesterday!