Posts Tagged ‘joy’
When I was young (I was going to write younger, but that is not accurate), life was full of drama. It seemed like one traumatic event right after another and some overlapping to keep me in a state of stress and frustration. I always felt like everything around me controlled me and I controlled very little (except maybe what was on the menu for the next meal and not even that very often was under my control.)Finances were out of control. My jobs were draining, never paying enough, and they kept me away from home too much. There was no such thing as free time or time for myself. Such is the life of a parent and more so for a single parent. The responsibility to do it all ‘right’ was overwhelming for all those years.
To those of the next generation who understand what I am saying, take notice! It actually does pass. You miss the joyful parts of those years after they are gone, but you finally get to stop and smell the flowers. It takes a long time to think of yourself first, but it eventually happens. I actually felt guilty If I ‘wasted time’ reading a book when I should have been doing something else like worrying about all the ‘what ifs’ when I was young.
For some reason (not sure why), I always put my job too high on the list of important things. I did my best and brought the rest home to think about after hours. I was still doing this until my second bout of cancer over a year ago. A health crisis really makes you come to a halt and examine the quality of your life. Best test – ask yourself this: “If I was to die today, would I be happy with where I am right now in my life?” The answer helps to put some things in perspective.
I currently work with an awesome team of women who are dedicated and passionate but work way too hard and way too much. I watch people putting their work ahead of their families and know I did that myself when my boys were growing up. I wonder why we do this.
This week, we lost a staff member who was laid off due to budget constraints. It was a shock. She worked hard and will be missed. Our team dynamic will not be the same. It made me very sad when I found out, but she will move on and so will our work team.
For me, it confirmed what I have been feeling rather strongly for the last year. A person is not their job. Your job is not your life. Your job should not define you.
When my sons were pre-teens I went to a teachers’ convention, and in one session we were asked to write down 10 things we did for fun. I sat there, looking at my blank paper and feeling a sense of guilt. I finally asked for a clarification. “What do you mean?” I queried. The presenter replied, “Things you do in your spare time for fun, just for you.” I was devastated. There was not one thing I could think of. My days consisted of working long hours, coming home to cook, clean, chauffer, etc. etc. and fall into bed exhausted, only to begin again the next day. Weekends were catch-up for laundry, shopping, marking school work…
Even though this was hard to accept, there was nothing I could do about it. My circumstances controlled my life. When the boys all left home, I had an identity crisis. I could not figure out who I was. I was not a mother if they were grown and did not rely on me, and when I took early retirement from teaching, I was not a teacher anymore, but who was I? What was I? I struggled with that for a long time.
Now that I am old, and I say this ‘old’ word with great satisfaction, I realize that like all women, I am one with many hats. I have juggled hats since I turned 20 and got married at such a young age. Now I realize I do not have to wear a name tag and do not have to keep the same hat on.
Now that I am old, I can proclaim that my current job is awesome – totally satisfying, challenging and often overwhelming, but it is not who I am.
Now that I am old, I can decide to say ‘yes’ to requests and also say ‘no’ with only a bit of guilt when I am tired and need time to myself.
I live in ‘the home’ and it is lovely and serene. Each day I come home, turn the key in the lock, walk in, survey my oasis and thank God for my blessings. Each and every day since I moved in here I have been doing that.
When I have a week at work that knocks the stuffing out of me, I take a day of my weekend and stay in my jammies. I nap, read, knit, cook a little, watch a little “Big Bang Theory” and nap again. After 24 hours I feel rested, de-stressed and ready to tackle a few home chores. Or not.
Now that I am old, it is all about me. I am working on giving myself some nice things like massages and manicures. At least I think about it. I haven’t quite got there yet, but I am getting closer.
Life in the home continues, thank goodness. The ‘what ifs’ down the road do not matter at the moment. My contentment lies within each day, feeling grateful and keeping things in perspective.
There are lots of things I could worry about, but if I could get all the time back that I worried about things that never happened in my youth, it would amount to years. I know that does not mean that life is never going to throw another curve ball my way or bring pain and sorrow. There will be more valleys and more mountain tops. My goal is to stay in the now and be grateful for whatever comes my way.
I am old, but I still have dreams and plans for when I retire in a year and a half. I have learned that my plans may fly out the window and my dreams may disappear because of life’s curve balls, but I will not worry about that now.
Right now, I am old and content. My life is what I make it. I expect tomorrow to be a good day and if it is not so much, then I will rejoice at its’ end and look forward to the day after.
And there is always Bailey’s and ice. In a tall glass.
Today I Turned Nine. . .
Posted August 10, 2011
on:6 + 3 = 9. Today I had a perfect ninth birthday.
Combine a gentle, blue-eyed, blond almost five year old with an exuberant, 5 and a half year old whose hair and eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and sit them side by side in a worse-for-wear 2004 Cavalier to drive across Calgary to Tommy Ks, and everyone knows what you get – bathroom talk in the back seat. It starts with farts and goes downhill from there with giggles and ‘I can do better than that’ comments swinging back and forth.
The birthday girl in the front has the fleeting thought, “What WAS I thinking?” as she misses the turn off Deerfoot and has to backtrack to 130 Ave. (Jack is staying with her for a few days and she has picked up Michael so the boys can spend the afternoon together.)
Upon arrival, the who-can-ever-tell-them-apart cousins make a dash into a world of fun, and Nana makes a bee line for the soft chairs in the front row where parents and grandparents sit and keep a watchful eye on their youngsters as they work their way through the maze of kid-happy things to do.
‘It’s my birthday and I’ll do what I want to’, so Nana checks FB messages on her Ipod, checks her phone for text messages, pulls out a new book on ‘how to write a book’ by Janet Evanovich (Stephanie Plum series – awesome), locates her lime-green Ipod Shuffle containing a zillion songs from a generation ago, plugs in and zones out.
Occasionally, she glance around to see where the ‘twins’ are before jotting down some notes, adjusting music volume and heading into the next chapter. The boys return periodically for cold drinks and snacks, then breathlessly run off again.
Nearly four hours later, the boys are sweat-soaked, worn out, and ready to go home. Again, Nana thinks, as she madly adjusts the air conditioning in the car, “What WAS I thinking?”
Bathroom talk picks up where it left off with the addition of a tickle or two and we head to Michael’s house to be greeted by three year old Laura. She runs up the steps, singing “Happy Birthday Nana!” and “It’s a secret. I can’t tell you! It is a ladybug cake!” as she gives Nana’s legs a bear hug. “Nice,” says mom, Carmen.
Dinner is a delight and the crowning glory is the ladybug cake with three candles, one representing each grandchild. The little ones sing in unison and with enthusiasm, and Nana tries hard to stop time forever at that moment when her throat closes up and she feels the swell of gratitude in her heart for such a blessed life.
Three grand puffs of air extinguish the candles and requests are made for “an eye”, “the icing side”, “a second piece”, etc.
Because cake is just an excuse to eat icing, it disappears within minutes and the kids are off to play for a while.
When it is time to go, Laura jumps behind Nana on the couch and wrapping herself around her neck, says, “I am a backpack!” as she hangs on for dear life.
Jack’s birthday is in 13 days so he gets presents from his cousins and we head back to Okotoks, kids blowing kisses and Nana honking the horn and annoying the neighbors. (You don’t turn 9 that often. Well, after 50 I guess you do, once every 10 years.)
Every year a birthday is different. Each unique celebration of another notch on the belt of life is a present to be unwrapped and savored.
Sometimes a birthday arrives during a fine time in life when all is well with nary a worry and other times, well, let’s just say ‘challenging’ is a polite description of those other times.
Either place is okay to be if it includes the gift of children. Michael, Jack and Laura are Nana’s gifts that ‘keep on giving’. They give joy and laughter and love beyond description.
To sum it up, when Jack asked for toast this morning and Nana said, “What should you say, Jack?” he replied, “Can I have toast PLEASE, Nana Banana?” He grinned from ear to ear and Nana laughed. Happy 9th birthday, if I do say so myself…
“Nana, I think your boat is sinkin . . .” says Jack, standing in his hard hat, wearing fluorescent-yellow water goggles, with socks on his hands and holding a toy drill. This is right after he tells me that my feet are in the water and then I put my feet up in the air to hear that my boat hasn’t got a hope! (I thought hope floats!)
He is in the process of fixing things with his tools – the cat’s tower, the couch, the fireplace. . . He hands me a bright orange plastic hard hat and tells me it will protect me from all the smoke. Then he adds black, heavy-rimmed glasses to my attire. Did I mention he has bare feet and is home with bronchitis?
Suddenly he verbalizes that mom and dad are not here and it is “just us.” “Just us,” he repeats, then his eyes light up and he smiles. That sweet face melts my heart and heals all that ails me.
We have read books, watched a movie that made him very sad and wanting a hug from dad, bounced a ball around the room and off the walls (oops) and over the ledge to the downstairs. He played his guitar while I danced. Now he is wowing me with his shooting skills. (We all have Nerf guns, all us kids.)
Jack is four. His throat hurts and he coughs periodically and eats his popsicle too fast. Then he cries from the brain freeze and the frozen lump in his chest. A few minutes later, he sings as he cleans up all his toys in anticipation of his mom coming home. “Where can that fire be? Where can that fire be?” he sings.
When mom arrives, Jack announces, “I’ve been working on the cat house!”
Last Day in Heaven. . .
Posted July 28, 2010
on:Wed. July 28th, 3:06 pm.
We leave at 11 a.m. tomorrow on a high-speed train for Geneva.
Today the temperature is well into the 30s and there is no cool breeze. It is very hot, but we are used to it now. I will never complain when it reaches 28 degrees in Alberta again. That will seem very moderate. Also, it is very humid here and that makes a huge difference. It is like the air kisses your skin and hair. You never feel like it is harsh or dry. It reminds me of Hawaii when I was 28. I stepped off the plane onto the runway and felt like the air was kissing my cheek. That was quite the trip. I went with my mom and two aunts and I was recently divorced. The boys stayed with their dad and my dad paid for me to go to Hawaii.
It was January. I wore a ski jacket to the airport and handed it over before boarding. Getting off the plane in Maui is something I will always remember. It was so hot and humid, a lot like France right now. Funny stories about that little trip – the three ladies shut down every day at noon to watch soap operas in the hotel for a few hours. Imagine being in Hawaii and sitting in a hotel room watching ‘soaps’! I read books in my room instead of going out on my own because I was very timid back then. Also, they would fight over the bill at every meal, to the point of actually tearing it as they pulled it away from each other. When I suggested we just each pay for our own as I found this public display a tad embarrassing, they looked at me in disbelief. Too funny. I can look back now and laugh. I thought they were all very ‘old’ at the time but they were actually right around fifty. I was just very young at 28. Here I am at 61 and I would not dream of watching a ‘soap’ in the middle of the day in Paris. Actually, I would not do it at home either, ha! ha!
The concert last night on the water was awesome. The entertainer was simply named ‘Dave’ and thousands came to hear him. He is well-known in France. There is entertainment here all summer, day and evening, including art, craft and drama programs in the parks for children. I could come here and teach programs as that is what I do in Okotoks – hmm….
All the entertainment is at no cost to the visitors and is paid for by the town. It is well-organized and we have been most impressed by the smoothness of setting up, taking down, dealing with the crowds, etc.
The last two nights I have slept on the roof deck under the stars. Awesome! Once it gets cool during the night, I burrow a little deeper under the sheet, but love the break from the heat. The best part is waking up early with the sunrise. The sky is so bright blue that it is impossible to sleep. That way I can shower, dress and head out with my camera. What joy in that! I have over 160 photos of doors to bring back. I could never tire of taking photos here.
If my church ever sells and if I ever get to buy another place, I will most certainly decorate it in shabby French Provincial style. I love the tiles and metal work and bright colors, truly an artist’s inspiration.
This is likely my last post from Agde, sigh! It has been an awesome experience here and I have totally loved France. My wish is that I return home and do not go back to being the person I was before I left. My dreams are bigger now and my right brain is ready to get to work. I will have to find another place to live quite soon as I need some studio place. A basement suite is a place to retreat, not a place to create.
Total pictures taken to date – just over 2,000. I have lived in the moment and stopped to take pictures as well, the best of both scenarios.
later,
IntrepidWoman