Each week I aim for optimism in my posts.

But some weeks I feel like gloomy Eeyore.  I doubt the positive message.  I feel like a poser, or a Pollyanna.  I wonder if you’ll think,
 

Who is this woman handing me these rose-colored glasses?

 
Because sometimes behind that optimistic message I feel defeated, frustrated.

These were supposed to be stars and other assorted cut out cookies.

This past week was no exception.  There was a moment where I found myself jumping up and down because I was so excited (news for a future post!), and then there was one where I cried tears of frustration.

Now before you write me a prescription, this wasn’t one big massive mood swing (although can’t say I’m immune to those either).  This week it was two unrelated things.

And way more frustrating than a crappy batch of cookies.

Enough to make me feel like I suddenly had no business writing about optimism.

Then while perusing the food blogs in my Google reader (never underestimate the power of a pretty picture of monkey bread), I read some posts from a blogger who recently gave birth to her second child.  In between posts on yummy confections she updated readers on the ups and downs of getting to know her infant. The sleepless nights, the tricks that work and don’t work, and the worry.

The opening notes to The Beauty and the Beast of Motherhood.

And in her story, I recognized myself and my daughter, how our first night home from the hospital (many, many moons ago) my daughter cried and cried no matter how many times I changed her, fed her, swaddled her, held her. I remember staring at her and thinking (and crying), just tell me what you want.

But we don’t always get the answers. Sometimes after life shifts, or plans derail, it takes time to figure out what works.  Eventually I figured out that my daughter loved her swing and white noise.  She’d sleep and so would I.  Then that would pass and there would be something new and equally exhausting to figure out.

My daughter, the gift.  She also inspired me to write songs with lyrics like, Please go to sleep.

And as I thought about the new baby posts and the super cute photos of this tiny new baby girl and her mother’s face glowing with happy exhaustion,  I remembered the joy.  Eventually, light seeps through.   We learn to deal.

It reminded me that my current confusion will pass too.  Maybe I haven’t figured it out yet, but at least I know I’ve done it before.

And I hope that by focusing on the light seeping through each week, maybe I can inspire someone else to remember the joy too.

A big thank you to Kristan over at Confessions of a Cookbook Queen and her tiny new daughter. Their story was the one I needed this week to remind me to keep on keeping on.

Oh and just in case you’re wondering, this is what I did with that funky batch of sugar cookies:
 

Cookie dough truffles.

Where do you turn to get a dose of optimism?  

xoxo

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