Getting Ahead of Myself

About this same time each month, I receive a Parents magazine; and every month is pisses me off.  It is subscribed in my name and bears my home address on its hateful little label, but I have no idea how or why I ever opted-in to receive such scornful taunting.  I have tried to call and cancel.  It keeps coming.  I pick it up and yell at it and throw it in the recycle bin as hard as I can.  Still, it keeps coming.  I have tried to bury it in the backyard, burn it...oh wait...no  I haven't - what kind of weirdo would do that...

*Ahem.

But something stopped me yesterday.  Something about the towhead toddler or the carefree mom, or maybe it was the bunny ears on the cover that forced me to immediately pause and take a closer look.  I carried it into the kitchen and casually tossed it on the counter with other gifts from the postman and went about my business.  Each time I walked by, pulling it a little further out from the bottom of the heap.  It teased me with it's hope and overwhelmed me with its knowledge.  I finally succumbed reading a few of the featured headlines and found myself wondering, "Hmmm...How DO you give your kids a time-out?"

Hold up.

I don't even know how to fill out adoption papers yet.  I don't have the faintest idea how to even properly warm a bottle or put in a car seat. 

This time, I walked politely over to the recycle bin and gently laid the magazine along the side to live out its last hours amongst the other paper until pick-up day.  This month, meeting Parents face to face wasn't all so bad.