Say What?

Last week I made a visit to my friend Mavis. I sat and talked for an hour, well actually 55 minutes. That’s all the time allotted for her clients. I’m not crazy, but once in awhile it’s nice to sit and talk to someone outside the family, outside that group of friends with whom you spend your time socializing.

I first visited her when my last child went off to college. Since I was more or less a stay home mom, I wondered where this new phase of my life would take me. I would pass the kids rooms and the made up beds, the clutter free spaces only reiterated the feelings of being alone.

My husband was great. He would sit and talk to me. We would go out to dinner, we tried everything. I put on the mother’s smile and pretended. But I cried at everything. I mean to say I cried more than usual, I’ve always been a crier. Now I would cry sitting at a stop light, walking through the aisles at the grocery store. I knew I needed to talk to someone, and I needed not to be judged.

I went to Mavis. She was a friend of a friend. We talked, about everything. Secrets even my family have no idea’s about. Nothing sinister or earth shattering, but we all have things in our past that we just don’t want out there in the light. Her office was my one place where I could find that bit of insight and serenity I desperately needed to get through that time.

The things she told me weren’t so different from anything anyone else had said. But she talked to me in a way that made me come up with the solutions. Maybe I should volunteer with a children’s charity. Find a part time job. Write. Take time to find out who Wendy is now that she’s not ______’s Mom.

This time the visit was about my own expectations. My Mom’s thinking of selling her home of 55 years and moving to a condo. She seems to be counting on me to help her with the decision. My kids all seem to be in flux in their lives, looking towards new jobs and new directions. More times than not the calls come to me. And as Mavis told me one of my biggest problems, as well as asset, is that I’m a fixer. When someone says they have a problem I will jump in with both feet to help them resolve the issue.

SO - now I am working on letting people solve their own problems. My first question will be, ”What do you think?” And when I hang up the phone I’ll put the problem away and go write or garden.

Yeah right!!!!

Anyway, I promised to try.

Cats and Kittens

I have come to the conclusion that a major difference between men and women has to do with cats and kittens. Women love babies. They love everything about them...the smell, the soft fatty spots, the tiny fingers and toes. We love to kiss them and snuggle them. Men like looking at babies. They will hold them carefully, do the Daddy thing, (we all have that picture of Daddy sleeping on the couch with the baby on his chest). But they really don’t get the parenting thing until the kid starts toddling and can actually play.

My husband was great with the babies. With the third, I worked nights so he was feeding, bathing and reading the nighttime story. And he was good at it. But he really started to shine as a parent when they could toss balls or run around the yard. The kids' favorite game was pretending to run out of the yard towards the street and Daddy would run after them. We thought this was a great game. We never actually let them run into the street and oncoming traffic. Yes, we were great parents.

I’m not saying that I was better with the babies and that he was better with the older kids. We were a team, each stepping in to take over for the other when needed. But as I’ve grown older I sometimes look at these adult children and I really miss the babies. I miss the kisses beneath the ear, the giggles emitted from deep in the belly. I miss blowing on the belly. I miss holding the baby so close that the baby fine hairs tickle my nose as I take in the scent that if it could be bottled would make someone billions.

Maybe it’s because it was easy. Feed, wash, sleep, and again. No major decisions, no, 'where should I go to college,' 'what should I study,' 'who should I date?' No 'what car should I buy,' 'where should I live,' 'how do you get over a broken heart?'

Maybe it’s the one good thing about getting older. You remember the past with rose colored glasses. The struggles of the kitten years are romanticized, as if glancing at the memories through densely placed clouds.

But men seem to shine in the cat years. Perhaps it’s that logical mind compared to the quixotic point of view. Whatever it is, it works.

And maybe that’s why God gave us grandkids, because as we get older we need that infusion of baby powder and innocence. We get the kitten years, but luckily there are others out there that will deal with the cat years!!!

What do you see?

I was looking in the mirror today and was surprised with the reflection looking back.

When I look out at the world through my eyes, I look out through the eyes of a teenager who loved sports. I see the girl that loved to ride her bike around town with friends, who enjoyed being out all day, but remembered the five o’clock curfew to be in the house and washed up for dinner. I see the high school girl who dated the assortment of guys, searching for that special someone. Who found that person my junior year, but took a few years to realize how extraordinary that relationship was. I see the young mother, scrambling to make sure the family was happy and healthy. That each child got his or her equal shares of kisses and hugs. I see a young woman working hard when necessary and playing hard as much as possible, planning trips, making memories.

I look out through the eyes of a young woman who laid her head down on her Father’s chest the night before he passed and whispered, ”I Love You”. I look out and see the hurt that comes with losing that one person that has been a constant in your life.

I look out and see all those people, the girl, the young woman, the mother and wife. But what do you see? Perhaps a slightly overweight older woman with laugh lines that have turned into wrinkles, with grey roots framing her face.

It's okay. I’m happy with my journey. But now you know that what you see is not all there is...and all there is is wonderful.