I Want My OWN Ice Cream Cone

I don't like to hold babies. For those of you whose jaws just dropped let me clarify. I don't like to hold other people's babies. This odd quirk goes way back. As a young girl after church on Sunday's when all the other girls my age would make a mad dash for the mothers with babies as soon as church was dismissed I was left wondering what all the excitement was about. Three-fourths of the babies who were snatched out of their mothers arms would start crying. The others were either drooling or smelled like spit-up. And as soon as the baby you were holding started to cry three or four old lady's around you would turn toward you and say "What'd you do? Did you pinch that baby?" Even the first time someone used this little joke on me I didn't find it funny. The day my first daughter was born this changed. I couldn't hold her enough. She was so sweet and soft and she fit in my arms so perfect and naturally. This was a relief for me considering my past experience with babies. I had babysit quit a bit and knew HOW to hold a baby, but still it was my job. I didn't really bond. I bonded instantly with both of my children. And now I'm impatiently waiting to be able to hold my third child, and yes this time I want desperately to hold her.

Now on to the ice cream cone from my title. I've been trying in my mind to find an analogy as to why this odd quirk of mine has gotten so much worse ever since we started our adoption. You would think that longing to fill my arms with my daughter would make me want to hold any baby I could get a hold of, but actually just the opposite has happened. Today after listening to my children argue in the back seat of the van about "Hold my ice cream cone for me while I get situated." it came to me. I have been standing in line waiting on a chocolate ice cream cone for 20 minutes. I can see behind the counter that it has been made, but they are checking over the recipe to make sure no important ingredients have been left out. Meanwhile someone else walks up to the counter and orders a vanilla ice cream cone. Within the very normal amount of time, 2 minutes (aka 9 months), they are handed their beautiful vanilla ice cream cone. I now look back behind the counter again and notice my ice cream cone is starting to melt. I feel desperate to have permission to go get it, but they still need to check just one more thing. At this point while I'm still so focused on my chocolate ice cream cone the lady with the vanilla cone turns to me and asks if I would like to hold her vanilla ice cream cone. Now do you think I really want to hold her vanilla ice cream cone?! I want my OWN chocolate ice cream cone!!