I spend a lot of time saying "you can't have that" to my daughter. That she asks for everything is a function of being seven, of being a kid, of not quite understanding the boundaries yet, how money works, how time works, how practicing works. That she's starting to get it sometimes breaks my heart.

The other day she said she wanted a cookie, but she knew she couldn't have one until after dinner. As she stared longingly at the cookies made by her grandmother and trucked 500 miles across Iowa, I realized that I could probably leave them out and leave the house and she still wouldn't eat one, because she is starting to get it.

Yesterday she brought home a baseball card she'd made for herself at school.

I thought about what it means to want anything, to wish for a magic genie to grant your heart's desires. I remember wishing for that, hell, I still wish for that. It's not even about money, it's also about accomplishments or love or friendship.

It stuck in my head, and as I went to bed last night I thought there are junctures in life where you probably could have anything, but to get to what you want, you sacrifice other things. You sacrifice time for money, money for time, family for career, career for family, dreams for peace, peace for dreams, relationships for autonomy, autonomy for relationships. It's all a trade-off. But you probably could have anything if you single-mindedly went through life focusing only on that one thing. I have a quote that I often read that says something like "the reason more people fail instead of succeed is because they sacrifice what they want for what they want right now." And what I want right now is usually a nap or a big Kindle download.

I've started saying more often to her, "You can't have that right now." That toy she wants? She might get it for Christmas or with her allowance or piggy bank money. That cookie will be hers in a few hours. That perfect turn-out might come with years of practice. It all boils down to what makes sense right now, in this moment, and maybe the key to happiness is accepting that.

So perhaps it's not "you can't have that," but "you can't have that right now." Or "consider what you'd give up to have that and decide if that's what you really want."

I can teach her to eat healthy food before she eats a cookie, but I can't teach her what her heart desires most. Only she can answer that for herself.

This weekend the little angel's dance class performed.  We got her all gussied up in her costume, complete with hat, and hauled her down in the heat for dress rehearsal.  Her class was called up first. It was chaos in the studio, 90 degrees outside and probably 100 degrees inside, with about 100 people gathered around to watch.  The little angel dutifully followed her classmates, but on the way to the center of the wood-floor studio, she slipped in her tap shoes and fell, hard.

She got back up, but once the music started, she looked at me, her face crumpling, huge tears rolling down her cheeks.  There was an audible gasp from the crowd -- she looked that sad.  After she stood there for about ten seconds with this expression while her classmates performed, I held out my arms and my little girl ran to me, curling into the fetal position in my lap and sobbing.  She was overwhelmed, completely overwhelmed. 

After her class's rehearsal was done, I sent her over to sit with her teacher and watch how the other girls did it.  I could see her loosening up during the rest of the hour-long rehearsal, and by the time the school went outside to perform for the public, she was ready to go.  She marched out onto the stage with her little co-horts. They all forgot about half of the dance, but when you're four or five, it doesn't really matter.  She even smiled part of the time.  I thought my heart would burst.

FweetieB and her husband brought their daughter, S., to watch.  The little angel was SO EXCITED her best friend could be there to see her dance. Afterward we watched the two of them hold hands over to where they rode the little train and the ponies.  I think S. inspired the little angel to try again, and the little angel got S. on a pony.  Watching them fuel each other's self-confidence was touching, and so was knowing the little angel has such good friends, and friends with parents who will make sacrifices to come and see us way out in the suburbs.  We so appreciate that, and I know no matter what happens to the little angel in her life, she will always benefit from learning to be a good friend and having others be a good friend to her from the tender age of one or two.

It does something to you, when you have good friends. It makes it easier to get up on stage or on a pony or into a new job or city or college or whatever you're trying to achieve.  Good friends give you courage the way nothing else in life can.  Knowing you have people who will still love you if you fail often guarantees YOU WILL NOT FAIL.
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Winner of the Picture Perfect and Mia Software contests up at Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews.

Does it seem like there is a black cloud hanging around?  I've had a lot of friends and family members with bad news lately.  It seems like everyone's company is laying people off, cutting costs, tightening belts and generally making life miserable.  The gas prices have finally gotten high enough to make people think twice about traveling. The airlines suck ass.  Traveling this summer just doesn't even sound fun.  The weather is insane, and heading into tornado and hurricane season is frightening.  I have a headache like every damn day from the barometric pressure constantly changing.  THE WATER IS TOO WET AND THE ICE IS TOO COLD.

Crabby, crabby, crabby.

Which is bizarre, really, because in my own life things are really good.  A year ago, we moved into Chateau Travolta after a horrible experience selling This Old House and my husband's job was miserable.  My beloved cat Sybil died of kidney failure.  In comparison, 2008 FUCKING ROCKS.  So what gives with my headaches and crankiness?

Here's a lightning bolt: I used to think (I know, I know, rookie) that if I were to get a book published, it would change everything. I would never again have a bad day. I would always be on Cloud Nine.  I would never fight with my husband, my child would flit from flower to flower like a red-headed butterfly.  Everything would be grand, forever and ever, amen.  Ridiculous, right?

But how many people really believe that shit?  That if only you had bigger boobs or thinner thighs or a million dollars or a husband that everything would be all hunky-dory all the time?  I never thought I'd fall prey to that, because after recovering from an eating disorder in my youth I realized that being a size 2 really just meant I was fucking hungry all the time.  It didn't fix anything. So I kind of thought I was immune to this sort of fantastical thinking. 

I'm elated about my book coming out in a few months.  I'm really, really excited about the book tour (widget coming soon with dates).  My beloved has been so supportive and wonderful about this dream of mine as it spun toward fruition that I've fallen in love with him all over again in the past few months.  We're remodeling the house we always wanted to have, cigarette-burned carpets and all. I have a new cat, who, while not Sybil, is a very loud purrer and quite cuddly. My husband has a different job that he really enjoys and whistles a lot.  The little angel has adjusted to her new daycare and is looking forward to going most days. She can draw a rabbit and write any word if you tell her the letters to use. She can read certain names and short words.  Things are good.

But you know what?  There are still bad days.  Tonight I came home with this killer barometric-pressure headache, knowing I had some reviews to do and that I was overwhelmed at work and it was only Monday.  The little angel wouldn't eat her dinner and the old truck wasn't starting very well.  When I went to fill the bathtub, the shower was left on  BY ME and drenched the top of my head.  Not the front, not that back, just the top, which looked totally cool and felt EVEN BETTER.  I couldn't find the Advil.  I tried to find the swimming suit and water shoes for tomorrow's "water play day" at my daughter's school, but she wanted the Crocs and I could only find one goddamn Croc, and she insisted the Dora shoes WOULD NOT DO and I wanted to tell her about all the little children in the world who don't have shoes and get parasites through their feet, but then thinking about those little children made me want to cry and it isn't even that time, seriously.  I'm just low on batteries this week.  And the IRS sent us a letter saying we messed up a box on our 2006 tax return and we owe them $390 yesterday. 

So no, getting a book published didn't fix everything. It just felt really good to achieve a life goal. The end.

In a way, though, it's freeing.  I mean, if that's the case, if realizing a dream I've had my entire life didn't fix everything, that means that nothing will fix everything, and this is as good as it gets, these little minutes, and maybe I should stop worrying about the big, grandiose achievements I always think will finally make me happy.  Maybe I am already happy, or I would be, if I could just find the damn Advil.

Or something.
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Teach your teen to stop hating her thighs.  Read the book review at Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews. Also! I wrote about oral sex today at BlogHer.  Seriously.