Okay. Where was I? Oh here: "However...I think that there is something qualitatively different about parenting remorse when you have become a parent through adoption as opposed through (sic) giving birth to your child....I know. Because,I, have been there.

Parenting remorse. Let's talk about that one first. The thing that kills me about parent remorse is that it can be triggered by the most mundane incident. That makes it even harder to comprehend. I wrote about an incident in a book I recently published where my son was relentlessly asking me for some mini-chocolate chip cookies.

No matter what I did I could not stop him from askng me for the damn cookies. I don't know why I was insistent on not giving them to him (an obvious solution) but for some reason I wouldn't and he kept asking. Finally, I snapped and I grabbed a handful of the cookies and I threw them at him. (Everybody all together now...stunned silence). He was four years old at the time. (Everybody once again. Gulp. Now. Breathe.) Let us continue.

Yep, I threw cookies at my four year old son. How obnoxious is that? And I have a knot in my stomach right now just recalling the entire scene that unfolded. I pulled myself together and did my best to soothe my son. I was so ashamed. To make matters worse, for weeks after that I was truly very sorry that I had ever bothered to have a child. Not in an I'm-no-good-at-this beating myself up kind of way. But in a this-was-a-stupid-idea way.

I didn't sit around feeling sorry for myself. I thought it best for me and my son to resume being the good mother that I knew I was as quickly as possible, so that's what I did. But for weeks I remember very well having an entirely different mindset as I went through the motions of being a good mother. It went something like this: "I knew this wasn't gonna be all it was cracked up to be. What was I thinking? This isn't worth a damn. I could be traveling in Europe right now. I could be working on my novel right now. I should be writing my business plan right now."

All of a sudden there was this torrent of thoughts and emotions that seemed to come from nowhere. I wish I could tell my readers how I ever pulled myself together and just got on with it. I don't know how, but, I did. If you follow my Blog at www.pioytl.blogspot.com then you know that my son and I have a rich and loving relationship. But to this day, this incident stands out as my most profound moment of parenting remorse. And it was brought on by--chocolate chip cookies. Whadaya think of that?

Now. Adoption remorse. Oh. My. Gawd! We adopted the girls when they were 3 and 4 years old. My son was six years old. Need I say more? We were only two years post cookie throwing meltdown for goodness sake! What in the world was I thinking?

I stayed at home with the girls for three months. My son was also at home with us for two of those three months because school had ended for the year. My husband only stayed at home with us for two weeks when the girls came home. After that we were on our own. Suddenly, I found myself trapped. All day. With three small children. Two of whom needed to parented much like infants in order to facilitate attachment.

So, I just rolled up my sleeves and went to work, doing all the stuff that I knew to do as an experienced mother and as a therapist. There were a lot of joyful moments that I still hold dear. But it was a lot of work.

One day between the mothering, and the attaching, and the housework, and the cooking, and the refereeing, and the teaching, I was utterly exhausted and both of the girls kept calling my name non-stop and pulling on me every 30 seconds. My son was calling me and pulling on me every 60. Finally, I snapped--again.

I started shrieking at the top of my lungs, "Will you please SHUT UP? STOP calling me! DON'T call or TOUCH me me any more! I will not answer you! JUST. SHUT. UP!" All four of us started crying. In that moment, I was as sorry as I could possibly be that I had adopted the girls. Again, it was not a passing feeling. It lingered for weeks afterward, even as I resumed being the good mother that I knew I was. The thing that made this so hard was not the event itself, but, the fact that we were still in the process of finalizing, so technically, legally, they were not my kids, yet. This was somehow "different" from my acute episode of parent remorse. Hey, I still had an out, right? I could send 'em back. Couldn't I?

Zheez. Okay. This is where I'm supposed to really start to discuss the implications of all of this, and tidy it all up with a feel good resolution. But, I'm sorry, I just can't. Not right now. I think I'm having "blogger's remorse," feeling sorry that I started down this road. In the interest of honesty and truly thinking I'm serving some purpose here, I'm committed to staying the course. But, I think instead of writing anything more tonight, I'm gonna go and have a glass of wine instead. See ya back here tomorrow.