I am sitting here, alone in my room, alone in my home, and I feel as if I could cry. I'm really not sure why. I have a lovely home, a loving husband, 3 gorgeous grandchildren and a daughter who is working hard to get her life together. My business is surviving the worst economy in over 70 years. What is there to cry about?
I am a crier. It takes very little for me to tear up - I have been known to cry at dog food commercials because the dog is aging. This feels different. There is no logical explanation; that always baffles me and I spend valuable time trying to figure out what is wrong.
JFM went out of town yesterday. When I am feeling uncertain I get anxious when he leaves. I know I am perfectly capable of taking care of the house and myself, it is just...well, I like having him here to help me. He is a big man (tall not fat) with a heart to match. He irritates me as all husbands do to their wives, but the bottom line is that I depend on his presence in my life.
This is the last day I will have the house completely to myself. I am happy that the girls will be living here because I know they will be safe and secure. I really don't mind. So, why the emotion?
I think it might boil down to the fear of history repeating itself. Last time we let our daughter move in things went well for months. Then one day I came home from work and they were gone; gone back to the environment they had fled a few months earlier. No goodbyes, no thank yous, they were just gone. I was devastated. I think my anxiety is based in the fear that a similar scenario will occur once again. Like most people I have some abandonment issues and the way the kids were taken away fed right into this problem.
While I know she is their mother and has every right to do as she pleases, I have lived longer and know the ramifications of such actions and can't help worry about the girls, especially Shorts who has been through so much.
So, what's a girl to do? Live each day as it is presented to me; keep our sanctuary private and pure; love each child deeply no matter where they live; and take lots of weekend vacations!
Hugs to all.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
I Rearrange Therefore I Am...
... at peace.
With the impending expansion of our family (no, not like that, our daughter and 3 granddaughters are moving in with us), I felt the need to declutter the living room. We are blessed to have a 1980's version of the modern home which means a giant great room and only a formal dining room. This arrangement has served us well, and now that large room is more important than ever.
I sat in the room yesterday, however, and a feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed me. This is not good. I tried to imagine this same room filled with children, another adult, toys and noise...well, let's just say I had a break down. Something has to be done, and since moving is not an option, I tried to picture the room in a different layout. This didn't work either. I am visual - I have actually see it to feel it, which means furniture must be moved, several times, so that I can see what works and what doesn't. Thus, I stopped the panic, put on my big girl panties and started to move furniture. It is amazing what happens when a coffee table is moved from the room and the sofa is pushed back about a foot. Voila' a large space for kids, toys, adults and no one has to be on top of one another. The oxygen had returned to the room.
We now have plenty of seating for everyone. A chair and ottoman placed in a corner and out of the line of fire. Adequate lighting and room for storing toys in baskets which will go under the sofa table.
But joy in one room led to despair in another. What to do with the coffee table and how am I going to turn our bedroom into a child-free zone; an adult retreat just for the two of us?
After about thirty minutes one aching back and two clicking knees later this is what I cam up with...
a cozy little seating area where we can watch TV, read, or, even talk. It has the Cleo seal of approval. The furniture is vintage 1930s or 1940s purchased several years ago from a friend. This is the original upholstery which will be changed soon. I want to decorate this room in soothing brown based neutrals and the accent colors will be white, turquoise and orange. This color scheme is an homage to my love of all things mid century (20th) modern with a nod to a set of stacking footstools we had in our home when I was growing up. The bowl on the table is a piece of Fenton glass I inherited from my mother-in-law and the wall hangings above it were hers as well. This room, along with the master bath, is scheduled for repainting soon. After that new bedding and the furniture redo.
The other part of the room is the place where I am now sitting - my little desk area. I moved an antique drop leaf table from the kitchen to our bedroom. The main reason is because I want the kids to be kids; I don't want to have to worry about this table as it gets heavily used every day. It makes the perfect desk.
The leaf can be popped up, so if we wanted to eat a cozy meal together or play a game, we can do that as well. The master retreat is coming together nicely.
The rooms in our house are a hodgepodge of eras, styles, and right now colors, but somehow everything kind of works and there is a feeling of comfort knowing we are using the things our parents used. I like that.
I often dream of a perfectly decorated house - all one style where everything coordinates and when the HGTV decorator and real estate agent walk in they proclaim it perfect - "Change nothing" they advise. But the reality is that will never happen and, really, would I want to live without memories or history? No. My house is a reflection of me - a charming, if not disjointed, blend of many different things that make up the whole. I like it here.
With the impending expansion of our family (no, not like that, our daughter and 3 granddaughters are moving in with us), I felt the need to declutter the living room. We are blessed to have a 1980's version of the modern home which means a giant great room and only a formal dining room. This arrangement has served us well, and now that large room is more important than ever.
I sat in the room yesterday, however, and a feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed me. This is not good. I tried to imagine this same room filled with children, another adult, toys and noise...well, let's just say I had a break down. Something has to be done, and since moving is not an option, I tried to picture the room in a different layout. This didn't work either. I am visual - I have actually see it to feel it, which means furniture must be moved, several times, so that I can see what works and what doesn't. Thus, I stopped the panic, put on my big girl panties and started to move furniture. It is amazing what happens when a coffee table is moved from the room and the sofa is pushed back about a foot. Voila' a large space for kids, toys, adults and no one has to be on top of one another. The oxygen had returned to the room.
We now have plenty of seating for everyone. A chair and ottoman placed in a corner and out of the line of fire. Adequate lighting and room for storing toys in baskets which will go under the sofa table.
But joy in one room led to despair in another. What to do with the coffee table and how am I going to turn our bedroom into a child-free zone; an adult retreat just for the two of us?
After about thirty minutes one aching back and two clicking knees later this is what I cam up with...
a cozy little seating area where we can watch TV, read, or, even talk. It has the Cleo seal of approval. The furniture is vintage 1930s or 1940s purchased several years ago from a friend. This is the original upholstery which will be changed soon. I want to decorate this room in soothing brown based neutrals and the accent colors will be white, turquoise and orange. This color scheme is an homage to my love of all things mid century (20th) modern with a nod to a set of stacking footstools we had in our home when I was growing up. The bowl on the table is a piece of Fenton glass I inherited from my mother-in-law and the wall hangings above it were hers as well. This room, along with the master bath, is scheduled for repainting soon. After that new bedding and the furniture redo.
The other part of the room is the place where I am now sitting - my little desk area. I moved an antique drop leaf table from the kitchen to our bedroom. The main reason is because I want the kids to be kids; I don't want to have to worry about this table as it gets heavily used every day. It makes the perfect desk.
The leaf can be popped up, so if we wanted to eat a cozy meal together or play a game, we can do that as well. The master retreat is coming together nicely.
The rooms in our house are a hodgepodge of eras, styles, and right now colors, but somehow everything kind of works and there is a feeling of comfort knowing we are using the things our parents used. I like that.
I often dream of a perfectly decorated house - all one style where everything coordinates and when the HGTV decorator and real estate agent walk in they proclaim it perfect - "Change nothing" they advise. But the reality is that will never happen and, really, would I want to live without memories or history? No. My house is a reflection of me - a charming, if not disjointed, blend of many different things that make up the whole. I like it here.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Family Visits
I have talked with many folks about the experience of visiting family. What I have found is that nearly everyone has a similar story. Each family has its own routine and ways of doing things - and often the routine becomes rather boring.
In years of visiting my inlaws and my own parents we nearly always do the same things. Eat and watch tv. Ok - maybe there is some conversation in there somewhere, but you get the idea. After we have caught up on each others lives, we have to look for things to do. Part of the problem, in my family, is that we did not grow up playing together. Our parents took good care of us, but they worked so hard there was no left over time for fun. Sounds sad, but it really wasn't so bad. But, with that back drop it explains why family visits are what they are today.
Now that mom is our only living parent I want to make visits count. She and I have a favorite "antique" store where we like to spend time treasure hunting - and we rarely leave empty handed. We also cook and eat.
I guess in the long run the most important thing is to regularly spend quality time together making memories. Everything else will be forgotten.
Mom reminded me that what my grandchildren need is love, attention and security - in years to come they won't remember what I buy them or if their room is decorated perfectly but they will remember the things we do together. Those are the memories I want to make and the memories I want them to have with my mom.
In years of visiting my inlaws and my own parents we nearly always do the same things. Eat and watch tv. Ok - maybe there is some conversation in there somewhere, but you get the idea. After we have caught up on each others lives, we have to look for things to do. Part of the problem, in my family, is that we did not grow up playing together. Our parents took good care of us, but they worked so hard there was no left over time for fun. Sounds sad, but it really wasn't so bad. But, with that back drop it explains why family visits are what they are today.
Now that mom is our only living parent I want to make visits count. She and I have a favorite "antique" store where we like to spend time treasure hunting - and we rarely leave empty handed. We also cook and eat.
I guess in the long run the most important thing is to regularly spend quality time together making memories. Everything else will be forgotten.
Mom reminded me that what my grandchildren need is love, attention and security - in years to come they won't remember what I buy them or if their room is decorated perfectly but they will remember the things we do together. Those are the memories I want to make and the memories I want them to have with my mom.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Politics of Kindness
Yesterday I finally gave up and went to see my doctor. After dealing with vague physical symptoms for eight days, I decided it wasn't a figment of my imagination, nor was I going to get over it on my own. As luck would have it, the two times a year when we have beautiful weather in southeast Texas, is also the time when I suffer from allergies. The end result is generally a sinus infection. I'm a little early for my fall bout with this pesky condition, but nonetheless, the usual symptoms began.
I do what I always do, I wait a week to be sure I am not over reacting then I go see my doctor. In my twenties, thirties, and forties, a doctor was someone I went to once a year - if that - and with whom I had no true personal relationship. Not having born children I did not go through that bonding experience with an obstetrician or pediatrician the way many women do. It was not until I found this doctor that I stayed with one person for more than a year.
When we first met, Dr. D. was relatively fresh out of medical school and still wet behind the ears (me being the savvy nurse immediately recognized the signs); she struck a cord with me and I have never left. Now, after a decade of practicing medicine, bearing three children, and maturing as a physician, I have that doctor patient relationship I always saw from the other side of the stethoscope.
I find I actually look forward to going to see her. I like her as a person, but also, for a brief few minutes everything really is all about me. No where else in my life is anything all about me. I don't even mind simple medical procedures (X-Rays and other non painful stuff) because during that interaction with the practitioner, I am the center of attention. I can almost see how people get into the habit of visiting their doctor for every little ache and pain. I totally get it now. It's not that I want fame, fortune or the accompanying narcissism; but as a woman torn in many directions it is nice, for a few short minutes, to be the one on the receiving end instead of the giving one.
We stood at the payment desk as she wrote my prescriptions; I remembered two other things I wanted to tell her. As I began one story I forgot the other. I stared blankly at her and sadly asked, "Am I just getting old?" Her reply was kind and comforting without being patronizing, "No, I just think you have too much on your plate." I felt like Charlie Brown in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" when Lucy explains pantophobia and he yells, "That's it!" I wanted to jump up and down and shout, "Yes, I have too much on my plate and there is more coming. Can someone please help me dig out of this pile of chaos?" However, I maintained my composure long enough to remember the other thing I wanted to tell her.
All of this tells me two things. First, I am not old nor crazy I am a woman who is balancing a marriage, a business, a design career, and now will be a full time grandmother. I make things complicated for myself as I try to do too many things - ultimately not doing any of them to my best ability. And finally, I am way too young to enter the phase of life where illnesses, pills, and doctor visits are my main source of conversation material.
So what's a girl to do? I must find another solution that is less expensive and equally satisfying.
Pedicure anyone?
I do what I always do, I wait a week to be sure I am not over reacting then I go see my doctor. In my twenties, thirties, and forties, a doctor was someone I went to once a year - if that - and with whom I had no true personal relationship. Not having born children I did not go through that bonding experience with an obstetrician or pediatrician the way many women do. It was not until I found this doctor that I stayed with one person for more than a year.
When we first met, Dr. D. was relatively fresh out of medical school and still wet behind the ears (me being the savvy nurse immediately recognized the signs); she struck a cord with me and I have never left. Now, after a decade of practicing medicine, bearing three children, and maturing as a physician, I have that doctor patient relationship I always saw from the other side of the stethoscope.
I find I actually look forward to going to see her. I like her as a person, but also, for a brief few minutes everything really is all about me. No where else in my life is anything all about me. I don't even mind simple medical procedures (X-Rays and other non painful stuff) because during that interaction with the practitioner, I am the center of attention. I can almost see how people get into the habit of visiting their doctor for every little ache and pain. I totally get it now. It's not that I want fame, fortune or the accompanying narcissism; but as a woman torn in many directions it is nice, for a few short minutes, to be the one on the receiving end instead of the giving one.
We stood at the payment desk as she wrote my prescriptions; I remembered two other things I wanted to tell her. As I began one story I forgot the other. I stared blankly at her and sadly asked, "Am I just getting old?" Her reply was kind and comforting without being patronizing, "No, I just think you have too much on your plate." I felt like Charlie Brown in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" when Lucy explains pantophobia and he yells, "That's it!" I wanted to jump up and down and shout, "Yes, I have too much on my plate and there is more coming. Can someone please help me dig out of this pile of chaos?" However, I maintained my composure long enough to remember the other thing I wanted to tell her.
All of this tells me two things. First, I am not old nor crazy I am a woman who is balancing a marriage, a business, a design career, and now will be a full time grandmother. I make things complicated for myself as I try to do too many things - ultimately not doing any of them to my best ability. And finally, I am way too young to enter the phase of life where illnesses, pills, and doctor visits are my main source of conversation material.
So what's a girl to do? I must find another solution that is less expensive and equally satisfying.
Pedicure anyone?
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Rush of The Unpredictable
I often dream of a life of serenity and peace. An idyllic existence filled with days of creativity, laughter, family and friends.
I can see myself starting the day with a cup of coffee, sitting in a lush garden watching the wildlife moving around, feeling a cool breeze. From there I would go to my fiber studio to do - well, whatever I was moved to do. Hmm, what to have for lunch? Light French type fare: fresh bread, simple meat, cheese, fruit and of course a simple rose' wine. A walk, time to read, and perhaps visit with good friends in the afternoon. The evening would find me in the kitchen cooking a meal with items from our garden and retiring to a quiet evening with my husband.
Then, I open my eyes and reality checks back in. My house has been turned upside down in preparations for a life changing event. Despite everything I wrote the last time I blogged (most of which was cathartic but not realistic) our daughter and granddaughters are moving back in with us.
I know, I said this would never happen again. I say lots of things when hurt, angry or frustrated. I know Dr. Phil would ask, "What were you thinking?" I know that the wisdom of the world says that we need to practice tough love because we are enabling our daughter to rely on us rather being independent. But, all I know is that there are three young children who need a safe, secure and loving home, a young mother of three who has mistakes but in the end wants to be a good mom and provide for her children, and God has given us the ability and the heart to help. How can we say no?
I know what it is like to be in a relationship that is emotionally hurtful. I know what it is like to be a child in a home with conflict. Most of all I know how good it is to be able to provide my grandchildren with a safe and secure place to live. We simply can't turn our backs on these three precious children. Nor can we turn our backs on our daughter. She hasn't had an easy go of life. She was thrown lots of curve balls from the very beginning of her life. None of these things are worth discussing but all of life experiences go into making us who we are - good and bad. I have always believed that it is what we do with these experiences that separate the survivors from those who just fade away into oblivion.
So, while my life may not look like that dream life - but this is my life, and I am grateful to have the chance to help those I love.
I can see myself starting the day with a cup of coffee, sitting in a lush garden watching the wildlife moving around, feeling a cool breeze. From there I would go to my fiber studio to do - well, whatever I was moved to do. Hmm, what to have for lunch? Light French type fare: fresh bread, simple meat, cheese, fruit and of course a simple rose' wine. A walk, time to read, and perhaps visit with good friends in the afternoon. The evening would find me in the kitchen cooking a meal with items from our garden and retiring to a quiet evening with my husband.
Then, I open my eyes and reality checks back in. My house has been turned upside down in preparations for a life changing event. Despite everything I wrote the last time I blogged (most of which was cathartic but not realistic) our daughter and granddaughters are moving back in with us.
I know, I said this would never happen again. I say lots of things when hurt, angry or frustrated. I know Dr. Phil would ask, "What were you thinking?" I know that the wisdom of the world says that we need to practice tough love because we are enabling our daughter to rely on us rather being independent. But, all I know is that there are three young children who need a safe, secure and loving home, a young mother of three who has mistakes but in the end wants to be a good mom and provide for her children, and God has given us the ability and the heart to help. How can we say no?
I know what it is like to be in a relationship that is emotionally hurtful. I know what it is like to be a child in a home with conflict. Most of all I know how good it is to be able to provide my grandchildren with a safe and secure place to live. We simply can't turn our backs on these three precious children. Nor can we turn our backs on our daughter. She hasn't had an easy go of life. She was thrown lots of curve balls from the very beginning of her life. None of these things are worth discussing but all of life experiences go into making us who we are - good and bad. I have always believed that it is what we do with these experiences that separate the survivors from those who just fade away into oblivion.
So, while my life may not look like that dream life - but this is my life, and I am grateful to have the chance to help those I love.
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