Life in the Slowing Down Lane

When Frank and I married in 1976, I had two teenage sons from a previous marriage. Several months after our wedding we decided to have a baby together, and that explains our Jennifer, 14 years younger than her brother Jeff, 16 years younger than her brother Craig. She is Frank's only child, although he always claims a proud stake in the boys as well, since he saw us all through their teen years and supported me emotionally during the letting-go-of-them stage. Which was tough. On me. Not them. As is usually the case, they could not WAIT to be out and on their own.

Now all our children are adults, two of them with children of their own, and one of their daughters a mother herself. It has been an incredible journey for this mom/dad/grandma/grandpa/great grandmother/great grandfather. An adventure in learning lessons from the younger generations as they grew up and we grew old-er -- some of the lessons happy ones, others not so much; but all worth the impact they've had on our lives.

It literally took me years to adjust to the empty nest once Jennifer tested her wings and flew off into the rising sun that shed both light and shadows on the path the chose for herself. My eyes still tear up when I recall waking up the first morning that she was... gone. Frank joyously danced about the house naked, reveling in his new found freedom. I felt as though I was coming out of anesthesia only to find that an important part of me had been surgically removed. I had known in advance that it was coming, but still it hurt. For a long time.

Her father and I continued to make our lives all about her. It was like breathing -- something we simple could not not do. Zen tells us that all paths lead to the top of the mountain, which may be true, but as her path took her further and further from us, the only thing that has kept us climbing has been our little grandchildren. Wouldn't you know it? We have made them the center of our universe.

Since they do not live under our roof, however, as had their mother, there are times when we have empty hours to fill. We run our own business, with Frank being the social networking one while I lean more toward cocooning, we maintain our own home, and we have many activities that let us enjoy each other's company (ranging from good TV, good books, good movies, good music, good coffee on our deck listening mornings to the countless birds that live in our trees, and good wine as we later sit on that same deck watching the sun set). We also talk a lot -- mostly about life.

Which has led us to a new facet that we are now exploring -- called friends. We're somewhat picky, opting for quality over quantity, but it's amazing how the universe has provided recently by arranging that our path cross other paths being travelled by folks (outside of family) who are fun and interesting and inclined to enjoy our company as much as we enjoy theirs. A new chapter in our book is being written, to mix metaphors.

We can't always hold our babies and rock them and sing to them and tell them stories (mostly about horsies), but by golly we can sure brag about them and show off their pictures! As can our friends about their offspring... while we wonder together where all the years have gone, and where future years will lead us. Life continues to be an adventure, even though our footsteps aren't a steady as they used to be.

Darwin During the Holidays

My favorite part of Christmas has always been finding just the right present(s) for the people I care about. Surprising my kids when they were little (by putting unexpected but highly hoped for toys under the tree), impressing them as grownups by personalizing my selections for each of them.

Shopping (or even making something by hand) isn’t as much fun as it used to be, though. My sons and their wives have all made good money for years, and they tend to buy whatever they want, whenever they want it. It has become harder and harder for me to get a genuine rise out of them at Christmas.

My son-in-law is younger and it took awhile for him to reach roughly the same point. It was always fun to surprise him and my stay-at-home-full-time-mother daughter with something I knew they wanted but couldn’t afford; but now they’re also in a better financial condition and do without very little. Even their kids seem to have two or three of everything.

What makes buying presents for my grandchildren and great grandchildren still relatively easy, however, is that I carry out a theme, which is… horsies, of course! I keep an eye out all year long to find unique items that reflect their love of horses (for which, I admit, I am largely responsible).

This year I have taken a huge leap. I have announced that I am only giving gifts to the little ones. Guess what. No one seems to care. Except me. It makes me sad. I feel as though I am abandoning a natural talent I’ve cultivated for years, and denying myself a wonderful source of pleasure watching others open their packages from me. But it does take the pressure off at a time when I truly do need to lower my stress level. Not that I’m having an easy time of it, because I am constantly fighting the urge to pick up this or that for one person or another, and stick twenty bucks in a card for someone else; but basically life changes and we must adapt. In my book The Rising Tide Model for Self-improvement I quote Charles Darwin: “It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones most responsive to change.”

Frank and I asked others years ago not to give us presents. We have run out of room on our walls to hang things, on our flat surfaces to set things, and in our closets and drawers to stuff things. Our home runneth over and we are at a point where we are passing things on (or sticking them in the attic because we don’t have the heart to toss them -- When the time comes our kids will deal with them appropriately.) We no longer buy for each other on special occasions either. Simply stated there’s nothing we want or need, other than each other and for our loved ones to be healthy and happy.

Well, there is something else: World peace and an end to hunger and homelessness. If you ever come across those available to the public, please let us know. We’ll gladly rush right out with our checkbook.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Thoughts About Family on the Fourth

It's the 4th of July. I have baked a (homegrown) zucchini torte and made my famous Weigh Better Potato Salad to take to a BBQ at my sons's house. Tomorrow. On the 5th. That's because my granddaughter and her family will be here tomorrow from North Carolina, so that's the day of our celebration. Not today. I'm sure our forefathers would understand and approve of this one-day delay.

A holiday such as Indepenedence Day is about celebration, tradition, history, yes. And it's about family -- first and foremost. The more the merrier, even though personalities don't always mesh, and some subjects must remain off limits because of differing views, heated opinions, moods and mood swings.

Despite some bumpy roads we've all been down together, I love seeing my kids, their spouses, their kids and their kids' kids all together -- even though there's always someone missing. It's impossible to get everyone together these days. There are other people to be visited, other places to go, and things like jobs and work schedules that make demands of their own. Sometimes we just do the best we can and settle for what we can get. And on the subject of family:

My husband and I have been watching a new series (on disc) called Burn Notice. The lead character is a CIA spy who has been "burned" -- meaning fired -- hung out to dry with no identity, no connections, no cash, no credit, no work history, etc. -- and he doesn't know why. Story lines are always full of intrigue as he uses his spy savvy to (a) try to find out who burned him and why and (b) extricate ordinary folks from not-so-everyday dangerous situations. What shines brightest in this series though is the array of characters.

The actor's portrayal of Michael Weston (think handsome, loveable smart-ass) reminds me of my grandson who now lives in Texas, a professional bull-and-bronc rider. The ex-spy's gorgeous gun crazy kick-ass ex-IRA guerrila fighter girlfriend/not girlfriend is the character I would most like to identify with, but alas. It's not to be. Because there's also the mother, definitely flawed and either directly or indirectly responsible for Michael's uhh... maybe warped... personality that so suits him for the dangerous line of work he has pursued. Father is absent, which is for the best, based on unpleasant memories that are discussed and sometimes defended, for better or worse. The younger brother shows up as the bad boy with a gambling habit and a grudge, and then there's a boozing older ex-SEAL buddy who's always ready to help make things better -- and worse. These are the regulars.

Thing is, the show is about family, and though it sometimes hits close to home in a sad way, it's also always good for a chuckle or ten. As I look forward to seeing my own gathering of characters tomorrow, especially my granddaughter and two great granddaughters, my hopes are high for a good time had by all. Including me. But a little voice is trying to help out by whispering, "Ah ah ah, not too high, remember. The higher those hopes rise, the harder they fall."

So I make a whimpy vow to try my damnedest to keep my mouth shut tomorrow -- just watch and listen and smile and... drink (not too much, just enough) -- because the role my offspring has assigned me is not the wise and kindly matriarch adored and revered by all. More like the mom in Burn Notice, I guess I have motherhood warts where freckles would be more appealing. I know my kids love me, so to speak, but I also know I'll most likely say or do something that will meet with criticism either to my face or behind my back. It's inevitable.

Which substantiates what I've always said about parenthood. You never get it right. I'm very proud of all my brood, they've filled my love tank with happy memories and made my life worth living. If it's possible to love your kids too much, however, I do. Too much? Not enough? You never get it right.