Visiting my daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter brought up memories of my hectic life working and taking care of four kids. They both teach, and their daughter has two different play/babysit arrangements, and inevitably you have to jump start a child who just wants to dawdle. She's happy to see her friends, but the stress is on her parents to keep that happiness first and foremost.
It's challenging, to say the least. I, fool that I am, went to graduate school two times, the first in my twenties with a one year old and the three year old, then a second time in my mid thirties, with three kids and at the time of graduation three months pregnant with the fourth. I know, crazy beyond belief. I no longer remember how I did it. I know I wrote my thesis from nine to ten every night, right after the kids were put to bed and right before I collapsed. I know my husband came back from his grad school for dinner and to get the kids to bed, then went back from nine pm to 2 am to do his research in the lab. And somehow we went on hikes to hear the elk mating calls, attended soccer games, bought new boots, cooked dinners and went to parties and poetry readings. We also belonged to a nuclear disarmament network and spent some Saturdays protesting in front of power plants. I have a newspaper photo of all of us, baby in stroller, waving placards and passing out fruit rollups to our kids.
I don't have that kind of energy anymore, but it feels like around our kids, we all just do it, and we just did it before Nike co-opted the rally cry of the beleaguered parent. I remember the strange little house on the prairie dress I wore for my MA reception, which was hiding child number four, and how I was the only one graduating with any kids, much less a herd. They had no idea what I did to get to class, teach two classes, and turn in every single paper on time. I was also trying to rescue my alcoholic brother, write a novel, and make sure our vegetable garden didn't die. I was Grounded. The real world had me in it's embracing, relentless arms, and the academic world was one I put second, but with focus that served me well.
Now I see my kids in two worlds as well, balancing, tipping over, pushing themselves upright, going on. Just do it. Because anything else is not real life.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Old Age Day by Day April 29, 2010
Well, I returned last night from my week visiting my granddaughter and it was delightful. A two year old's world is magic, and it is an honor to participate. We played "trip" with her little chair and an ottoman behind it, and she loaded up the car, looked at the "map" and drove us to the science museum, the zoo, and to see a moose, zebras and flamingos. My job was to place myself where instructed, and "see" the animals. When we got out of the car I followed dutifully behind. What enchantment, to see her work out a real trip she and I were going to be taking on the train. It was a challenge to get her and all the paraphernalia on the train (carseat, suitcase, diaper bag, my purse, bag with books, crayons, babydoll, blanket, stickers, snack bag, etc). It took a village, but I met some wonderful, kind people who helped and talked to my granddaughter. She was great at my friend's house, and we spent an hour each day just walking around the block. We had to stop, pick up rocks, blow dandelions, backtrack, look at flowers and garden ornaments, and urge her onward, onward, to get her to move forward. She was always happy stopping right where she was on the sidewalk, and looking, touching, and finding tiny bugs and leaves.
Getting her to take a nap was beyond my capabilities, but with some timely car rides, she did get an hour or more each day, and was so tired when it was bedtime that she could be placed in the portacrib (no I didn't have to bring that along, fortunately my friend had one and a high chair and a booster chair). Naturally, we visited my friend's adorable six month old granddaughter, and basically basked in worshipful grandmotherhood.
Ah, this is the life! If old age is what allows such experiences, I'm all for it!
Getting her to take a nap was beyond my capabilities, but with some timely car rides, she did get an hour or more each day, and was so tired when it was bedtime that she could be placed in the portacrib (no I didn't have to bring that along, fortunately my friend had one and a high chair and a booster chair). Naturally, we visited my friend's adorable six month old granddaughter, and basically basked in worshipful grandmotherhood.
Ah, this is the life! If old age is what allows such experiences, I'm all for it!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Old Age Day by Day April 20, 2010
This is my last blog for a week. I'm going to visit my daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter. It will be the granddaughter's second birthday. I'll also see my best friend and maybe a couple of other people I know. I haven't been on a trip since last October. We're trying to budget to get used to retirement when it comes, and we've been busy with the holidays and singing rehearsals and the usual small details of life. And as the cliche goes - time flies. In fact it hurls past as I attempt to catch a glimpse of the moment, to be in it. There is a definite acceleration. That's why meditating is so useful. It's an emphatic braking. Whoa, now, slow down a minute and let me catch up and notice what is flitting through my mind and what my body is feeling.
Of course, it's raining today and I have a few errands to do before I leave, and a doctor's appointment and some phone calls to make. I'm still HERE not THERE. Transitions are tricky, as I tend to jump the gun and imagine myself there before I am. I'm excited, and nervous, and sort of running through a mental list. I can't decide between a cotton coat on the plane or a warmer down vest. I can laugh at my preoccupations, and yet it's difficult to erase them. Travel is unsettling. It shakes us up, and we need that shaking, no doubt, but I try not to forget it's not easy either.
Of course, it's raining today and I have a few errands to do before I leave, and a doctor's appointment and some phone calls to make. I'm still HERE not THERE. Transitions are tricky, as I tend to jump the gun and imagine myself there before I am. I'm excited, and nervous, and sort of running through a mental list. I can't decide between a cotton coat on the plane or a warmer down vest. I can laugh at my preoccupations, and yet it's difficult to erase them. Travel is unsettling. It shakes us up, and we need that shaking, no doubt, but I try not to forget it's not easy either.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Old Age Day by Day April 19, 2010
You never give up the need for mentors, as far as I can tell. I have friends who are a bit older than I am, and they guide me towards the possible futures. I see how they deal with retirement, with health issues, with grown kids and their problems, with travel, with the death of partners. They are blazing the trail, and I'm asking questions, observing, and mentally taking notes. So Saturday's big birthday bash for a dear friend who is turning eighty was fun and a revelation. First of all eighty plus folks can DANCE. They can cut a rug! Such a relief, because I love dancing. There was live Cajun music and we got down and dirty. Here we all were - from great grandchildren to their great grandparents, shuffling or bopping, but moving those feet. Is there anything more joyous?!
They forget to tell us we can still have fun when we're old. It's not the aged living brochure sentimental crap, it's the real thing. My friend sang "I Walk the Line" with new lyrics about her eight decades of parenting, loving, activism, working and partnering, and it was a celebration of all the goofy and sad and delightful and passionate parts of our lives. And there were all the young ones, seeing first hand what "old" looks like. But those of us a just a bit younger also were learning. I swept out of the front door after six hours and thought to myself - what am I going to do for my 65th? The possibilities are endless. The whole world opened up beyond that door, and my husband and I tread carefully back to our house through the dark streets (mindful of fragile bones and eyesight issues) and felt hopeful and excited. It's all doeable, really, just one step at a time.
They forget to tell us we can still have fun when we're old. It's not the aged living brochure sentimental crap, it's the real thing. My friend sang "I Walk the Line" with new lyrics about her eight decades of parenting, loving, activism, working and partnering, and it was a celebration of all the goofy and sad and delightful and passionate parts of our lives. And there were all the young ones, seeing first hand what "old" looks like. But those of us a just a bit younger also were learning. I swept out of the front door after six hours and thought to myself - what am I going to do for my 65th? The possibilities are endless. The whole world opened up beyond that door, and my husband and I tread carefully back to our house through the dark streets (mindful of fragile bones and eyesight issues) and felt hopeful and excited. It's all doeable, really, just one step at a time.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Old Age Day by Day April 16, 2010
Well, I finally decided and bought our granddaughter's birthday present yesterday. Unfortunately, in order to get it up to her place, I had to buy a huge duffel bag to get the two sets of blocks in something, and will have to pay for an extra bag on the flight. I have a constitutional inability to pick a gift early, and seem to need a sign from the heavenly spheres to commit. Thus, I end up lugging a bag that I could comfortably rest inside, and if somehow I get delayed, I guess I'll take out the blocks and zip myself up for a nap. Packing light has ever been a concept that evades me. If I go for a week, I'm proud of myself if I only pack three pairs of shoes. I have to have the rain gear, the cold gear, the warm weather gear the extra pjs, the books in case I run out of reading material. I need a Sherpa when I go anywhere. Even Hawaii, where a swimsuit and tee shirts and shorts out to do it, is challenging. I'm like a turtle who needs to take his whole house with him.
Nevertheless, I usually forget something. On the last four day trip I had to socks. I had enough outfits for twelve weeks, but my feet were freezing, as it was rainy three out of four days, so we made a romantic trip to the grocery store to buy socks for me. My husband offered me his, but I don't think I could have stuffed them in my shoes. One time in northernmost Italy, I had managed to leave my cosmetics bag at the airport, so I was forced to attempt to transact a conversation about sunscreen and toothpaste in my non-existent Italian. It's still uncertain what I was brushing my teeth with or spreading on my skin. I probably mixed up the two. My husband forgets things also, but that is because I pack for him. He had no hat in Hawaii, and has gone with no belts or shoes. Well, the shoes are because I don't pack him any. His shoes weight too much and he never wears but one kind anyway. Wee, I can be ruthless when it's not my own bag.
My grown kids are amazing packers. Perhaps I served as a warning to them. I've watched my daughters get everything in a small backpack and travel for months at a time. How do they do it? I feel there ought to be an Olympic sport for packing, and I have to tell you, my daughters would be bringing home the gold.
Sometimes I believe it was having four kids that forced me to give up the idea of packing light, and I still feel unready to leave until the combined weight of myself and my luggage has reached five hundred pounds. I COULD pack lightly now, but what exactly would it feel like? Free hands? A back not aching? No waiting at baggage claim? I can't quite imagine it. It's just not me.
Nevertheless, I usually forget something. On the last four day trip I had to socks. I had enough outfits for twelve weeks, but my feet were freezing, as it was rainy three out of four days, so we made a romantic trip to the grocery store to buy socks for me. My husband offered me his, but I don't think I could have stuffed them in my shoes. One time in northernmost Italy, I had managed to leave my cosmetics bag at the airport, so I was forced to attempt to transact a conversation about sunscreen and toothpaste in my non-existent Italian. It's still uncertain what I was brushing my teeth with or spreading on my skin. I probably mixed up the two. My husband forgets things also, but that is because I pack for him. He had no hat in Hawaii, and has gone with no belts or shoes. Well, the shoes are because I don't pack him any. His shoes weight too much and he never wears but one kind anyway. Wee, I can be ruthless when it's not my own bag.
My grown kids are amazing packers. Perhaps I served as a warning to them. I've watched my daughters get everything in a small backpack and travel for months at a time. How do they do it? I feel there ought to be an Olympic sport for packing, and I have to tell you, my daughters would be bringing home the gold.
Sometimes I believe it was having four kids that forced me to give up the idea of packing light, and I still feel unready to leave until the combined weight of myself and my luggage has reached five hundred pounds. I COULD pack lightly now, but what exactly would it feel like? Free hands? A back not aching? No waiting at baggage claim? I can't quite imagine it. It's just not me.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Old Age Day by Day April 15, 2010
I'm reading a gripping mystery. I read it through lunch alone at my favorite cafe of the great turkey sandwich, and upstairs throughout my husband's and daughter's work on her taxes, and it awaits me as soon as I do my exercise video, find the perfect present for my granddaughter's second birthday, pick up a gift for a friend's 80th birthday, vacuum the dog hair, and get inspired about what to cook for dinner. It's my desert island. Why mysteries? Well, if they are sophisticated enough, because you're mulling a bunch of questions and some of them never get answered, and the characters are forced to grapple with uncertainty. Uncertainty is the stuff of life. We spend a lot of time and energy denying our lack of control over our lives, but in a mystery I can let the protagonist take over the struggle, and play out that risk, adventure, and sudden twisting and turning that any life contains.
"Don't know" is the proper frame of mind for a detective, and her curiosity allows her to see what is obscured to others. It is safer to practice this openness in a book, obviously, and practice makes perfect. Does the doctor KNOW what will happen to you? He makes his best guess. Does what is happening today predict tomorrow? We get a lot of free fall vicariously: 9/11, earthquakes in China, the pedestrian hit in the crosswalk. Then we get the sudden heart attack of our mother, the stroke of a good friend, our child's illness that could turn out either way, the bad mammogram. We can never be fully prepared, especially for exactly what will befall us, unless it is death. And we don't know how we will manage our own death or anyone elses until we're there.
But we can understand we are not in control of anything but our attitude towards sharp shifts in our world. We can remember that it's the basic condition of our existence. And appreciate life this moment. Whatever comes, we are blessed to be in and of this world, however long it turns out to be.
"Don't know" is the proper frame of mind for a detective, and her curiosity allows her to see what is obscured to others. It is safer to practice this openness in a book, obviously, and practice makes perfect. Does the doctor KNOW what will happen to you? He makes his best guess. Does what is happening today predict tomorrow? We get a lot of free fall vicariously: 9/11, earthquakes in China, the pedestrian hit in the crosswalk. Then we get the sudden heart attack of our mother, the stroke of a good friend, our child's illness that could turn out either way, the bad mammogram. We can never be fully prepared, especially for exactly what will befall us, unless it is death. And we don't know how we will manage our own death or anyone elses until we're there.
But we can understand we are not in control of anything but our attitude towards sharp shifts in our world. We can remember that it's the basic condition of our existence. And appreciate life this moment. Whatever comes, we are blessed to be in and of this world, however long it turns out to be.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Old Age Day by Day April 14, 2010
I have two doctor appointments today. Blauggggh! First to find out what to do about my bone density, the second an eye checkup for my degenerative eye disease. As my GP says, welcome to old age. I had a phone conversation with my health care provider, and it was useless. She seemed mighty uncomfortable, and the materials she sent I could have mailed her. I know about eating healthy and food groups etc. I eat healthy. But I have medications that slug me out, and a thyroid that now is acting lazy. I said to her, "Does this mean to lose weight I need to eat only twice a day?" No, no, no. Yes, yes, yes. I AM going to have to do some crazy diet to lose weight, and whenever I need to return to real life it will come right back. I can see the humor in it all most of the time. But when I feel guilty I get mad. I eat no sugar, no fried food, have lots of fiber and multigrains. I've decided a pear is the perfect dessert, and I have sparkling water instead of beer, and low fat string cheese instead of brie. Surely, no other sacrifices should be necessary?
I guess I can assume if I actually overate I'd weigh the equivalent of a small elephant, and that is supposed to comfort me. I feel like a lot of women my age: we're on the battlefield without the right weapons or a coherent battle plan. Is it too much to ask for a little help? I've read Dr. Oz, but Oprah eats with him, and she still can't lick this problem. She even has a cook to make her tasty nibbles on silver platters that have no fat, no calories, no salt.
Last time I was in the doctor's office, as I stepped on the scale, I said to the nurse, "I'd rather be shot dead". I know, she said, with big sad eyes. She's my age and weight. Knowledge is not always power. Sometimes it is a stick to beat us with. I have to remember I'm doing the best I can, my intentions are good, and my body just likes resting. It's had a long and arduous life, and it's not about to burn calories without a fight.
I guess I can assume if I actually overate I'd weigh the equivalent of a small elephant, and that is supposed to comfort me. I feel like a lot of women my age: we're on the battlefield without the right weapons or a coherent battle plan. Is it too much to ask for a little help? I've read Dr. Oz, but Oprah eats with him, and she still can't lick this problem. She even has a cook to make her tasty nibbles on silver platters that have no fat, no calories, no salt.
Last time I was in the doctor's office, as I stepped on the scale, I said to the nurse, "I'd rather be shot dead". I know, she said, with big sad eyes. She's my age and weight. Knowledge is not always power. Sometimes it is a stick to beat us with. I have to remember I'm doing the best I can, my intentions are good, and my body just likes resting. It's had a long and arduous life, and it's not about to burn calories without a fight.
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