I am often amused/amazed at the stupid stuff I do, and I do more and more stupid things as the days go by. Just stupid stuff, like putting the milk in the cupboard, the laundry soap in the frig, getting up from my desk to go do something, only to forget what it was, but while I'm in the room that I don't know why I'm there, I might as well change the sheets. Never mind that I just changed them the day before. Stupid stuff!
This evening I received a very funny email from the daughter of one of my cousins. She who must not be named. I'm not naming her, because I don't have her permission to tell the story, but it needs to be told, so she remains nameless to you. She also doesn't have Facebook, so not only will she be nameless in this story, she will be clueless that it was written. That works well for me, and for her.
The daughter is in the kitchen cooking the meal, which I think was breakfast. Can't remember which meal, doesn't really matter. My cousin rushes into the kitchen and starts pushing buttons on the microwave. Not just a couple, but enough buttons are being pushed that it would seem she is going to cook Thanksgiving dinner in the microwave. Her daughter is watching all of this and wondering what in the world her mother is doing. She finally decided she might should ask.
"Mom! What are you going to cook that requires that many minutes?" Her mom, without missing a beat, or in this case, a number, replies, "I'm calling the bank to get my checking account balance."
Stupid stuff, brought on by too much on our minds, too much stress, too many irons in the fire, too many cooks in the kitchen, too many numbers to dial to reach the bank. It makes perfect sense to me. No wonder I've been having so much trouble with dropped calls lately. I've been using the microwave. Now, why is the microwave on with no food in it? WHO TURNED THE MICROWAVE ON?
Friday, January 28, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Middle Age?
It seems everyday I am trying to find words to define how I feel about my spot in the aging game. Someone told me recently that I'm not really middle aged. I would have been middle aged around 35. Well, I plan to live past 70, so I had to disagree. In reality, none of us know when we are middle aged, because not one of us know when we are going to die. I think I was probably middle aged at 40, because heaven help me if I live to be one hundred, but I think I might make it to 80.
I feel like Chicken Little. I think I might run through the streets yelling, "The sky is falling. The sky is falling!" I feel that everything is pouring down on me, but I know that is slightly dramatic. It's just the time and the circumstances of life. Being fifty, I see my mom, aunts and uncles all aging, and getting to an age that they might not be around much longer. Not being negative here, but considering their ages, it's something to think about. They need our attention and help more than they did before, and we are use to them being a help to us. It's a tough reality for me. They are now depending on me for help, and I still feel like I need them to help me. They've always been the strong ones, and I'm not feeling as strong as they have always seemed to be.
On the other side of the hill, I see my children maturing, becoming adults, and they are thinking they don't need me as much. Unless it's midnight and they just discovered their car has been stolen. Or it's an early afternoon on a Saturday, and they discovered they are going to be a mother. Or it's January and ACT papers haven't been filled out, and the ACT test needs to be paid for. What about senior pictures, and a graduation party? Maybe we could have a baby shower too, and could I please tell them how to get to Charlie's Sporting Goods?
I'm still needed, just in a different capacity. Maybe that's why I feel like Chicken Little. It's a new sky I'm living under, and I just need to adjust to the fall out. I remember when I was pregnant with Sarah, and I was afraid. I mentioned a concern to the Doctor, and said, "I've never had that pain before." He said, "You've never been pregnant before either." As I stand here on the hill of fifty, it's a place I've never been. I've never had adult children, and I've never had a parent, or aunts and uncles that were this old. It's a new adventure, the sky isn't falling, and I will just stand strong.
I feel like Chicken Little. I think I might run through the streets yelling, "The sky is falling. The sky is falling!" I feel that everything is pouring down on me, but I know that is slightly dramatic. It's just the time and the circumstances of life. Being fifty, I see my mom, aunts and uncles all aging, and getting to an age that they might not be around much longer. Not being negative here, but considering their ages, it's something to think about. They need our attention and help more than they did before, and we are use to them being a help to us. It's a tough reality for me. They are now depending on me for help, and I still feel like I need them to help me. They've always been the strong ones, and I'm not feeling as strong as they have always seemed to be.
On the other side of the hill, I see my children maturing, becoming adults, and they are thinking they don't need me as much. Unless it's midnight and they just discovered their car has been stolen. Or it's an early afternoon on a Saturday, and they discovered they are going to be a mother. Or it's January and ACT papers haven't been filled out, and the ACT test needs to be paid for. What about senior pictures, and a graduation party? Maybe we could have a baby shower too, and could I please tell them how to get to Charlie's Sporting Goods?
I'm still needed, just in a different capacity. Maybe that's why I feel like Chicken Little. It's a new sky I'm living under, and I just need to adjust to the fall out. I remember when I was pregnant with Sarah, and I was afraid. I mentioned a concern to the Doctor, and said, "I've never had that pain before." He said, "You've never been pregnant before either." As I stand here on the hill of fifty, it's a place I've never been. I've never had adult children, and I've never had a parent, or aunts and uncles that were this old. It's a new adventure, the sky isn't falling, and I will just stand strong.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Friendship
I was just thinking about Friendship and what all my friends mean to me. The thought occurred to me that there aren't enough words to write all my feelings. Every person that has come into my life has enriched my life in some way. Some in huge ways, and others in small ways, but enriched my life just the same. Some friends have been around for a lifetime, others have just passed through, but all have left their mark.
I have friends that are my family, and friends that are like family. We all have special people in our lives, and we all refer to someone as our best friend. I have so many best friends, and they are all my best friend for their uniqueness and their specialness. Words to describe them all, fail me.
Today when you are thinking of what to be thankful for, be thankful for all the special people in your life that you count as a friend. For those whom you don't count as a friend, be thankful for them too. They have touched your life too, maybe not in a good way, but they have taught you something.
Thank you all for being my friend.
I have friends that are my family, and friends that are like family. We all have special people in our lives, and we all refer to someone as our best friend. I have so many best friends, and they are all my best friend for their uniqueness and their specialness. Words to describe them all, fail me.
Today when you are thinking of what to be thankful for, be thankful for all the special people in your life that you count as a friend. For those whom you don't count as a friend, be thankful for them too. They have touched your life too, maybe not in a good way, but they have taught you something.
Thank you all for being my friend.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
It's Not About Me
It's not about me, but I had a melt down anyway. Not because it's not about me, but because I want the me it's not about, to at least look nice on the day that isn't about me. I know I'm just the mother of the bride, and it's not my day. I had my day when I married the father of the bride. Is it really so bad for me to want to look nice at Julie's wedding?
I had a slight meltdown when I couldn't find a miracle outfit. I wanted something that made me look young, skinny, beautiful, and way to young to have a daughter getting married. Then I went into major meltdown mode when it occurred to me that my maid of honor was coming to my daughters wedding, and she is still young and beautiful, and she will look better than me. ME, the mother of the bride. That can't be, even though it will be.
I'm done with the meltdowns, and moving on to reality. I am the mother of the bride. That in itself is joyful, and I will be happy to share the day with my beautiful daughter. I might not be the prettiest mother of the bride that ever was, but I'm Julia Bernice's mom, and we are going to take on the day!
I had a slight meltdown when I couldn't find a miracle outfit. I wanted something that made me look young, skinny, beautiful, and way to young to have a daughter getting married. Then I went into major meltdown mode when it occurred to me that my maid of honor was coming to my daughters wedding, and she is still young and beautiful, and she will look better than me. ME, the mother of the bride. That can't be, even though it will be.
I'm done with the meltdowns, and moving on to reality. I am the mother of the bride. That in itself is joyful, and I will be happy to share the day with my beautiful daughter. I might not be the prettiest mother of the bride that ever was, but I'm Julia Bernice's mom, and we are going to take on the day!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
She's old, not Senile
Yesterday as I was helping mom, I realized that some people think that old means senile. Sunday evening Mom broke her foot. Yesterday mom and I spent three hours at urgent care seeing the doctor, getting pictures of her foot, and then getting fitted for a walking boot. Thankfully, Aunt Mary had a wheelchair that mom could use, and I was able to get her around in that, and keep her from walking on her broken foot.
I never think of my mom as weak. She's always been strong, and she's learned how to do things on her own, and is very self sufficient. She rarely asks for help, and will try doing everything on her own before she even thinks about asking for help. To see her in the wheelchair yesterday was a little hard to take, but I knew she was only sitting there because she had no other choice. It never once occurred to me that she might be senile.
Just because she is sitting in a wheelchair, doesn't mean that she can't think for herself, answer questions asked, or that she has forgotten her date of birth, her name, or the reason she was there. I was just the person pushing the wheelchair, but you would think I was the only one between us with a brain. That in itself is funny. I sometimes wonder if I actually do have a brain. I rolled mom up to the receptionists desk, and she completely ignored mom. All questions were directed to me. "What is her name?", "What is her date of birth?", "Why is she being seen?". I was just answering the questions without thinking about it, until I realized how that must make mom feel. I should have said, "Ask her yourself. She's not senile!" Granted, we often joke about her being crazy, but she's not senile. She knows her name, her date of birth, and she could've even told them which foot was broken.
When we went to the lobby to wait for mom's turn to be seen, I asked her how that made her feel to be ignored? She said, "Oh, I'm use to it. People treat old people like that all the time. I noticed it when clerks in the stores started calling me honey." Oh that will not work for me when I'm old! Paul is the only one that calls me honey, and I detest it when another woman calls me honey, or dear, or sweetheart. I can see it now, I will be a grouchy old lady, telling these young whippersnappers that I am NOT their honey!
Once we were called in to see the nurse, she ignored mom and asked me the questions. She did ask mom where she got her blue eyes. Mom, she's much nicer than me, and never thinks up sarcastic answers that just roll right off my tongue. I would have said, 'Well duh! I was born with them." Then she asked mom where she got her accent. Mom just answered her very politely and said she was from Mississippi. Back to the waiting room we went. I said to mom, "I didn't know you had an accent. Do you think that you do, and we just don't hear it?" Maybe I'm senile, but I don't hear her accent. And anyway, what does that have to do with getting her foot x-rayed, and in a boot so we can get out of here?
I've learned from all of this that I need to be aware of how I talk to older people. I need to remember that they might be old, but not necessarily senile. They might be riding around in a wheelchair, but they aren't brain dead. They probably know their full name, their date of birth, and what they had for breakfast. They need to be treated with the respect.
I never think of my mom as weak. She's always been strong, and she's learned how to do things on her own, and is very self sufficient. She rarely asks for help, and will try doing everything on her own before she even thinks about asking for help. To see her in the wheelchair yesterday was a little hard to take, but I knew she was only sitting there because she had no other choice. It never once occurred to me that she might be senile.
Just because she is sitting in a wheelchair, doesn't mean that she can't think for herself, answer questions asked, or that she has forgotten her date of birth, her name, or the reason she was there. I was just the person pushing the wheelchair, but you would think I was the only one between us with a brain. That in itself is funny. I sometimes wonder if I actually do have a brain. I rolled mom up to the receptionists desk, and she completely ignored mom. All questions were directed to me. "What is her name?", "What is her date of birth?", "Why is she being seen?". I was just answering the questions without thinking about it, until I realized how that must make mom feel. I should have said, "Ask her yourself. She's not senile!" Granted, we often joke about her being crazy, but she's not senile. She knows her name, her date of birth, and she could've even told them which foot was broken.
When we went to the lobby to wait for mom's turn to be seen, I asked her how that made her feel to be ignored? She said, "Oh, I'm use to it. People treat old people like that all the time. I noticed it when clerks in the stores started calling me honey." Oh that will not work for me when I'm old! Paul is the only one that calls me honey, and I detest it when another woman calls me honey, or dear, or sweetheart. I can see it now, I will be a grouchy old lady, telling these young whippersnappers that I am NOT their honey!
Once we were called in to see the nurse, she ignored mom and asked me the questions. She did ask mom where she got her blue eyes. Mom, she's much nicer than me, and never thinks up sarcastic answers that just roll right off my tongue. I would have said, 'Well duh! I was born with them." Then she asked mom where she got her accent. Mom just answered her very politely and said she was from Mississippi. Back to the waiting room we went. I said to mom, "I didn't know you had an accent. Do you think that you do, and we just don't hear it?" Maybe I'm senile, but I don't hear her accent. And anyway, what does that have to do with getting her foot x-rayed, and in a boot so we can get out of here?
I've learned from all of this that I need to be aware of how I talk to older people. I need to remember that they might be old, but not necessarily senile. They might be riding around in a wheelchair, but they aren't brain dead. They probably know their full name, their date of birth, and what they had for breakfast. They need to be treated with the respect.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year
This new year, 2011, will be filled with unexpected blessings. I want to have the courage to face them all, because not all blessing look like a blessing at first.
When I get discouraged about money problems, I want to remember that I'm very wealthy in so many ways.
When I feel sad, I want to take the time to think about what makes me the happiest. My family and my friends.
When I feel happy, I want to remember the struggles that built the strength of character.
Every day I want to give thanks for all that I have, and for all that I don't have, because there are a lot of things I don't have. I don't have a miserable life. I don't have an unhappy marriage. I don't have children that dislike me.
When I get discouraged about money problems, I want to remember that I'm very wealthy in so many ways.
When I feel sad, I want to take the time to think about what makes me the happiest. My family and my friends.
When I feel happy, I want to remember the struggles that built the strength of character.
Every day I want to give thanks for all that I have, and for all that I don't have, because there are a lot of things I don't have. I don't have a miserable life. I don't have an unhappy marriage. I don't have children that dislike me.
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