When life gives you lemons, take a hike.

Doug is annoyingly pure when it comes to beverage intake. By that, I mean he drinks water. That's it. Water. Well, to be completely accurate, 98% of the time he keeps to water. Lame, I tell you.

The other 2% of the time?

Chocolate milk. Yep, that's right. I'm married to a first grader. He loves chocolate milk. It's weird...and totally true. But, oh no, not any chocolate milk will do. No, sir, the little ankle biter has made it clear (on more than one occasion) that only Horizon Organic 1% Chocolate Milk is fit for his delicate little taste buds (and, now we say it all together: LAME). Yes, in his brief hiatus from water, he pours a little glass of moo juice...usually, each day when he gets home from kindergarten, er work. 

Not me. I'm an equal opportunity drinker.

Give me a good Dr. Pepper 10, Crystal Light, Starbucks, or Pino Grigio any day (all right, all right - that *or* should really be an *and*). At any rate, I'm clearly much more accepting of the man-made kaleidescope of liquid wonders than my better half.

But...I never really liked lemonade.

Lemonade...
C'mon neighborhood kiddos: Don't you have anything else in the house you can sell at that curbside stand? Ice tea? Or at least mix it up and go for strawberry or raspberry lemonade, please? Head over to the McNamee house in a few years: we'll be going all out and selling Arnold Palmers. No plain old lemonade here.

Given my disdain for lemonade, the old adage, "When life gives you lemons...," has never really worked as an effective metaphor for me. After all, what counts as a lemon anyway? Isn't that a matter of perspective?

Take pregnancy. When it comes to finding out you're pregnant, for some women - even if for only a fleeting moment - that news might count as a lemon. Strangely, I can sympathize with that emotion [more on that in a future post], yet for some of you, that may be hard to imagine - a baby's always a blessing, right? But for the teenager who can't even process the reality...the single mother who already has two in diapers, while juggling two jobs...the couple who thought they'd retired from the baby-making industry a decade or two ago. For them, that news might, at first glance, look like a big, fat lemon.

Still, in many of those scenarios, after the shock of the news has subsided, the proverbial lemonade-making begins. Add a little sugar (you know, the warm, fuzzy thoughts about being a parent)....and some water (i.e., a little much-needed time and perspective to let it all mellow out)...and, before long...what at first seemed like sour news, is now something to be relished. Ah. A nice tall glass of refreshing lemonade.

But, wait. I don't like lemonade, remember? And Doug only chugs water and chocolate milk. Whelp...so much for that analogy helping us to make sense of pregnancy and parenthood. Let's try something else...

The Road...

Another classic metaphor: life as a journey down a long and winding road. I like this metaphor. It has versatility. It doesn't presuppose that we all like the road, as is the case with the lemonade adage. The road, just "is." Sometimes the road has breathtaking scenery. Sometime it has potholes. And traffic. And construction.

We traveled down the road I'll call "Trying to Make a Baby Boulevard" for a couple years. Sometimes that road was sunny and serene, sometimes it was very dark and scary...and then it was just, well....long. And dusty. And HOT. Like triple digit heat, middle of July in Central Texas HOT.

Call it heat exhaustion, or delerium, or I don't know what, but things get wonky (yes, that's the technical term) on TMB Boulevard after you've been on it too long. For me, after awhile, I was convinced I wanted lemonade and only lemonade. Craved it. Thought it was the only thing that could quench my thirst. Couldn't see my life without it. But that's the crazy, infuriating thing about TMB Boulevard. The longer you're on it, seems like every lemonade stand you stroll up to is closed down....or at least the operators are all inside playing XBox on account of the heat. Sheesh.

And there we are. Standing out in the road. Dying of thirst.

"AAAHHH! Can I get some lemonade up in here?!?!!" [that's me, yelling on the side of the road, with my attitude and emotions in full tilt crazy mode...and, yes, Doug can verify that]

The Road Less Traveled...

You see, but that's the great thing about roads. If you don't like the road you're on, you can always keep trekking in search of a new one. But it takes making that decision. This life-as-a-road analogy was poignantly depicted by Robert Frost. You might be familiar. Here's my favorite parts of his poem, "The Road Not Taken:"

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TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, 

And sorry I could not travel both              

And be one traveler, long I stood            

And looked down one as far as I could  

To where it bent in the undergrowth;          

Then took the other...

I shall be telling this with a sigh 

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— 

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.
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Recently, we decided to hop on a road less traveled. Sure, I still think about the road we left from time to time...and, for all we know, we might find ourselves back on that road someday...or, in a strange twist of irony, we might end up on "Crap, We're Having Triplets Turnpike." But, back to the road at hand...

I call this new road "Adoption is Awesome Avenue." It took me awhile to get there. Doug had the directions to that road for quite some time, and the sweet man patiently waited while I yelled and cursed and cried all up and down TMB Boulevard. He walked a step behind, or at my side, watching and waiting. Willing to keep trekking down that path with me or off-roading to find a new one.

The Avenue certainly has its own potholes, speed bumps, and confusing traffic signals, but we're glad to have you along as our travel companions. Truly. It makes quite a difference.

And guess what? Adoption Avenue has grocery stores...which will really come in handy when we get a little thirsty for some chocolate milk...oh, and formula (boxes and boxes and boxes of formula).

Take that, all you lemonade stands on TMB Boulevard.

More on the twists and turns that come with Adoption Avenue in the next post...