Re-direct

The beauty of having your kids move out on their own is that you get to clean out all the stuff you no longer want and send it off with them.  This is the part I actually like. To finally ditch those 45 extra coffee mugs you've collected through the years is a wonderful thing.  It never ceases to amaze me at the amount of 'stuff' one collects over a period of time.  We have so much that it makes you feel horrified that it is sitting there collecting dust.  I cleaned out the front closet today and dug out 8 assorted pairs of shoes of Dan's that have been in there for a year.  8 pair.  Just crazy.  But this isn't what this post is about...

I read another blog I am following and a line she wrote resonated with me; I saw myself in that statement.  Where she is piecing together the broken parts of her life after losing her husband, I am trying to re-direct mine.  Strangely, the process is very similar.  It's all about change and our ability to adapt to it.

"My heart is torn, my faith shaky. I am barely holding it together." 

These feelings are are nothing new to me... I have experienced them many times throughout my life, so they should be somewhat palatable.  Yet, they affect me the same way every time; like the first time, and it all seems so scary still.  It makes me realize just how uncomfortable I am with change and the uncertainty it brings.  And the change now is learning to be without children to raise.  That job is over and I'm just brought in as a consultant now and then.  So, I am unsure of what purpose I fulfill now that full-time role is satisfied.  It's that re-inventing part that I get so stuck on.  I could give you a list of all the things I'd "like" to do, but the reality is that I don't believe I could do justice to any of them.  I fear I shall have to start from scratch, and if I do that, I'd better be dang sure I start someplace that I'll have the drive, the passion, to finish.  That has been a re-occurant problem... starting stuff and not finishing.  I get so far and I hit a wall that paralyzes me to continue.  I over analyze, I'm sure, and that makes it far too easy to talk myself out of things that I think I will ultimately fail at.  So, is this a fear of failure? Or rather a fear of success in that if I did succeed, I would have no excuses to stop?  It's a constant conundrum that only serves to make me mental.

I am hating this ability to make simple things complex. I'm too dark these days and I desperately need to not be as it colors everything. 

And I need color.

Happy Maudlin Day...

If you looked up the word 'maudlin' in the dictionary, it would tell you it means, among other things, '...tearfully sentimental'.  A perfect word for today as it is, once again, Mother's day.  It happens every year in one way or another as it takes on different configurations.  As happens when you starts to age, ones emotions are often hyper sensitive, and you are quicker to 'feel' which makes you quicker to react.  It just seems that our emotions are much closer to the surface which is why I can cry at a dog food commercial 'cause the dog is so sweet and loyal and well fed.  I cry whenever a love story comes on, or at a wedding, or when a dramatic scene plays out, but mostly, I cry any time and every time I see someone else cry.  It's like someone pushed my auto switch on the boo hoo train.  It's getting rather ridiculous, even by my standards.  Maybe it's because the world always seems to be on a perpetual downer... or maybe we're just too tired to try and conceal all that emotion that bubbles to the surface.  I dunno.  I do know that on this day, I cry, and I do so unabashadly.

My mom passed away from ovarian cancer 25 years ago this month.  I cry that she left us so early... way before I got to ask her stuff on child rearing and jam making and how to crochet a doily and how to pick ones fights, and things about my childhood, etc.  I miss that we never had that opportunity when I needed it most. I cry that she never got to meet my boys, and how excited she would have been to hear Dan sing, or watch Simon earn his black belt.  Those are things that us moms need to see and hear... validation that we've done o.k. and that our parents are proud.  I cry at the realization I could have, and should have been a better daughter to her.  She deserved so much better from me.

I now watch my own sons grow into strong, independent young men which translates into the fact that they are slowly, but ultimately needing me less and less, and for that I cry.  Somehow, it feels so final; like one minute you have to do everything for them and the next they don't need you for anything.  Your job is done... time to move on.  What they don't tell you is that position you've held for 20 years is so burned in your brain that you don't have a clue as to what you are supposed to do from here on.  There needs to be a course specifically designed to redirect  and transition newly empty nesters into productive, creative, and invaluable contributors to the rest of the human race.  There is a measure of fear that goes along with the knowledge that you've kind of got to start over from scratch, and if that scares you, can make you cry.

So, you see how this day holds so much crazy emotion for someone like me.  I used to try and fight it, but now I just embrace the crazy and let 'er flow.  Cleans out the dust balls in one's brain!


PS: I was just presented with carnations, a movie pass, and a very beautiful and sentimental card from Dan... and now I cry.... go figure.

Sick 'n' tired

Today I am sick & tired... literally.  It started last night with a little tickle in my throat that would not go away no matter how much I tried. It evolved quickly into the ever dreaded spring cold.  I sound like a thousand seals every time I cough. Guess that means it's bronchial... UBER bronchial. And headish in a congested kind of way. I don't feel particularly bad, but I am tired.  It's been so long since I've had a cold, I forgot what it felt like.  Now, I realize, me-no-like.  It is, however, my own dang fault. For some strange reason, I kept forgetting to take my vitamins to the point of never taking them and that's when things get messy.  I should know better...

But, no one wants to know about my horking and phleming, so I will move on from that topic.  It's dark out now and I'm listening to a wild song-off between the frogs and the coyotes!  Quite impressive.  It does worry me some as the coyotes are getting closer and closer to where we live.  I've heard that small pets have been taken in our residential area, so it can be a bit unnerving.  They have no fear.  Can't say I'm too worried about our dogs; they are... oh, how should I put this..., rather 'husky' if you know what I mean.  Those coyotes would have their work cut out for them if they tried take-out from our back yard. 

OK... this just ain't working for me.  Can't seem to focus and I recognize this is sounding like a 5th grade composition.  I think it would be a good idea for me to just head off to bed and heal.  I'll do better next time... I promise.

Over and out...

May the 4th be with you...

Couldn't resist using this cheesy line somewhere today; it only comes around once a year after all.  Really though, when you think about it, it's a noble sentiment that I gladly wish for all my peeps.  Stay strong... evil lurks.

I am sitting here getting drunk on the aroma of freshly mowed lawn... thank you, Dan-o; thank you sunshine; thank you spring!   Dan is home for a few weeks before heading back to Camrose for the rest of his life... well, 4 years of it at the minimum. I love having him home, though it takes tremendous will power to keep me from attaching those apron strings.  Every time he leaves I have to go through rehab... it's tough letting them leave you when they go so far away.  Thankfully Simon is within reach and I can get my son-love fix when the shakes and cold sweats of withdrawal symptoms start to kick in.  Unfortunately for me, there is a good chance Simon will be leaving town in the near future, so I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to handle that transition.  (See under: 'Dogs and Old People'...)

I find myself harkening back to when I left home at the ripe old age of 19.  It never once dawned on me that the process was hard on my mom, yet as the youngest of the family it would have thrown her head first into an empty nest.  It bothers me now knowing that I was so oblivious to that fact.  Still, it was very likely as hard on her as it is for me... demonstrated every time I visited and her desire to make it all about me.  She always asked and cooked my favourite meals; always wanted to get me something from the store she worked at; always wanted conversation.  I'm not sure I made it any easier each time I left.   These are the trials of parenting, the ones that so often go unacknowledged.  As moms, we have an innate connection to our children that is unmatched in any other relationship.  Oh, sure sometimes they drive us crazy and we need to retreat to our separate corners, but that only lasts so long before the pull to connect kicks in. The umbilical cord that, though severed physically, is never completely severed emotionally.  It's that compulsion to protect; to nurture that I don't think ever goes away.  Their pain is our pain; their joy is our joy; their pride is our pride.  I know my mom always had our back, no matter how much disappointment we may have caused her.   It is a force to be reckoned with as it surely can't be denied.

I just realized this post is rather good timing as Mom's day is around the corner. It must be a Freudian thing as I hadn't planned on this topic. Nevertheless, since I did go there I want to leave with this thought.  If you are fortunate to have a mom still around, take this one day and give her what she really wants.  YOU.  I have never, EVER felt as gifted as when I have been wrapped up in my sons arms and told that I'm loved. 

It's all we really need.