I had to throw away two jars of mango jam yesterday. Very disappointing. Besides the obvious lesson, which is to take your canning safety seriously (could I ever have forgiven myself if my son was made ill via his PB&J?) it got me to thinking about those times when you do everything right and still stuff gets mucked up.


In college I studied languages, learned lots of applications and different operating systems, had several excellent co-ops (all activities billed as rendering me ready and perfect for the job market) and yet, in graduating into the recession of the early 90s, found myself pounding the pavement competing for temp positions. It's been 11 years now (I'm no longer considered a "young alum" by my alma mater) and I think I've caught up but those first years of working were difficult, because I did everything I was told would make me very competitive and it turned out there were thousands of kids just like me and companies could hire PhDs for the same cost as my little ole' BS. Things are worse now for new grads, and I just can't imagine what it must be like being out there new to the workforce with little to offer when so many with excellent resumes and track records are on the bench and you just can't compete.


Or take my sister-in-law's good friend who just gave birth, except she won't be taking her baby home. "Lisa" is ridiculously fit, never smokes or drinks, eats a good and varied diet and took prenatals for months before even trying to become pregnant, would leave the room in the presence of a litter box or unpasteurized cheese, and gained the recommended and physician-sanctioned 25 pounds exactly. And yet...her daughter was stillborn. She did everything right, left nothing to chance, but her baby will not be sleeping in the basinette in the corner of her bedroom.


Then there's my friend "Gina". She and her husband prepared for their marriage like it was the bar exam. They took extra preparation classes, communication classes, household management classes, sex classes. Once married, they kept weekly date night sacred through three kids and two cross-country moves - and took yearly, kid-free vacations to keep connected. But now he's fallen in love with a colleague and says that Gina never really understood him. She says he's right.


I guess sometimes it all just hits the fan and there's absolutely nothing we can do. As a Type-A control freak in (tenuous) recovery I find this hard to take. I want to feel that if I do everything I'm supposed to do, make all As, remember to pack a raincoat and check all my seals for leakage that nothing bad will happen to me or anyone I care about. Unrealistic, I know. Doesn't change my inner voice, though (the one that's keeping me up at 4:45 a.m. writing this and thinking about what has to be done today), and it doesn't stop me from trying to fix everyone's lives so that I don't have to feel sad for them. And it doesn't stop me from putting "make more mango jam" on the already too long to-do list. It's my son's favorite so I have to make it - just hope I don't screw it up this time.