Some things can't be saved...

Rachel came to me one day. And just by the way she plopped herself down in the chair next to me, I knew it was going to be a discussion.

Rachel: You're not like other moms.

(I cringed a little. You never know where a statment like that is going. And I wasn't sure I was ready.)

me: How so?

Rachel: Well, you never tell me that I can't do anything.

me: Sure I do. Think about your clothes...

She interrupted me.

Rachel: No. I mean, you make me believe that I can do anything I set my mind to.

me: Uh huh. (And I'm trying to figure out why this is bad.)

Rachel: So, what can't I be...besides a prostitute...

me: You can't be a stripper either. If you are, I've failed miserably.

Rachel: (laughing) Don't worry, Mom. What about a lawyer?

me: (wrinkling my nose) Well, you do like to argue...but I think you should do something more creative or you'll never be truly happy.

Rachel: Tattoo artist?

me: Sure.

Rachel: Really? (She sounds incredulous now.)

me: Why not?

And I'm think about this long after the discussion finishes. I never tell her things aren't possible. I try to teach her to think outside the box, find a way to make anything possible. In the past, that was the way I lived. I never believed that anything was impossible. If I wanted something, I simply found a way to make it happen. Impossible was not a word in my vocabulary, challenge was.

I believe that struggling is good. It makes us appreciate what we have. And I've been struggling for so long. I've been trying to save the house and save the car and even save myself.

Yesterday was a day of disappointments for me. I had been faxing updated bank statements to the car company all day, every time a new overdraft fee would post. I was determined to get the money back in my account from their error. And finally, around 5:30pm, the finaly blow came. They would have to mail me a check. The money would not be electronic transferred. I explained, angrily, that their error was costing me my house. (I had already had a call from the squatters explaining that they would have money for me Friday. And J was supposed to come through with money for me. And with the money from my check, if the sun, moon, and stars would merely align...I would be able to pay the mortgage, save the house for another month while I searched for a miracle.) Instead, there was now no way for that to happen, since my check would only cover the overdraft charges and be essentially gone. I doubted the mortgage company would be that understanding.

I had talked to S before leaving for the Open House. It was venting, really.

me: Maybe it's a sign.

S: Babe, you've done all you can. J won't have all the money for you, I bet. And I doubt the renters will. Stop beating yourself up. Let it go.

I nodded and headed out the door. Soon I was pulling up to the McDonald's Drive Thru, and I was ripping off the last part of a broken nail. It had broken really low and I had tried various methods to save it, rather than have one unsightly short nail. No matter what I did, the nail had continued to rip.

Rachel watched in fascination.

Rachel: Are you biting your nail?

me: Nope. It ripped and I was trying to save it. See?

Rachel studied it for a moment before speaking.

Rachel: Yeah. Not gonna happen.

This prompted Keenan to sing S's not going to marry me song. (And he does it with such glee.)

me: Yeah. I guess you can't save everything. Maybe I'm not meant to save everything, whether it be something small like a nail or big...like a house.

Rachel: It'll be okay, Mom.

me: I know.

And it will. All I have to do is look around me and count my blessings. A house is just a building. What I have with S and my kids is a home.