Gotta Give it a Rest

The news, that is. Lately, I've realized that what I'm missing most in my life is hope..... a la Wiki: a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. The conundrum at this stage of the game is that all the major passages of life are behind you with the exception of death, and that most of what is bright and challenging and new belongs to the generation in the prime of life, aka, not you.

My time with my Dad has brought home to me the vagaries of age, how most of us don't die overnight but in small dribs and drabs every day, the same way in which we advanced to the peak of our power and wisdom. I find it difficult to have hope when what's in my sights is death and decay and the realization that the best years of my life are gone, and compliments of the daily news, the best years of Planet Earth along with them.

So my quest in 2010, Year of the Monkey Smackdown, is to figure out a way to put hope back in my life. Paul Krugman has suggested that we refer to this past decade as The Big Zero, and I'm inclined to agree. Maybe the next decade will turn out to be The One. I hope so. 

Grandgremlins

Christmas this year turned into unadulterated Baby Worship. There was Cameron in the flesh, and the promise of another sweet warm baby to come. John and I were tired by the time the 25th rolled around, having worked brutal non-stop retail right up to the last minute Christmas Eve. But what I'm finding is that Baby Worship doesn't take much energy. No doing, just a lot of being. You can't worship a baby unless your attention is completely focused on said bundle. It's all about the connection ~ through your hands, your eyes, your voice. Every time I'm with Cameron, I'm transported back to that magical world I discovered when I had Heather ~ the world where everything you're doing has meaning, feels totally natural and right, and is the culmination of all the skill sets you ever learned or knew innately.

So I'm enjoying our three grandchildren ~ two little girls from afar, and one big boy right here on the street where I live. And come the end of June, there will be another sweet bundle down in North Carolina to cuddle and get to know.

The Power of Voice

Back when I was teaching parenting classes, one of the mind-boggling facts I shared with parents is that fully 38% of communication is strictly through tone of voice. The words are totally secondary (7%), so it's all about inflection and tempo and nuance of vocal chord. And guess what? It's freaking true.

This morning I called my sister-in-law, Kelli, to ask about her holiday and plot to celebrate January birthdays. It was our usual chit chat of catch up, but her tone of voice, her musical laughter, her infectious happiness turned my "day off" of cleaning and bookwork into a little oasis of sharing and love.

Thanks for the great Christmas present Kelli!

Sun Worship

Every work day I feel gratitude for the 80 feet of glass across the front of our store, even though it looks out on the Speedway gas station across the street. I can still appreciate the sunny days, watch the snow, see the moon rise. It's total chaos out there in the rest of the world weather wise, but here in the Ohio Valley we are untouchable so far this winter! Fabulous dustings of snow, blue sunny days, enough rain to make it interesting.

Breathe deeply, let go

Today is one of those days where I must stifle myself. Though I have long criticized my husband's family in terms of not addressing emotional issues, I'm finally learning that there are times and places where it's just not productive or worth it. I used to attribute this type of silence to a lack of caring, but I now realize sometimes it's more about greasing the wheels of relationship and saving your energy for survival. Still doesn't feel right or good, but it takes time to change a perspective. The first step is to quit acting on directives from the Mother Ship.

So I'm out here in my little row boat today, exploring the islands.

Late Night at MM

One hour left to go of a 10-hour day here at the Max. Actually not true, John relieved me for an hour so I could get a massage. One hour on the table sure makes a 9-hour day bearable.

Our first cold snap and my hands suddenly look like alligator skin no matter how much lotion there is in the world. Bad bad hair day, the perm was such a misguided idea. The only thing that looks worse than straight gray hair is curly gray hair! Jesus, I feel like a geriatric Shirley Temple. So last night in the five minutes in the bathroom before jumping into bed I took the small blue scissors and went after it. Looks pretty awful but I feel better, like somehow I have had my revenge. Hey, I don't have to look at it most of the day.

My current favorite hubby quote, "Next time you feel like getting a perm........don't."

Sigh.

2:36 AM

May I just say how very tired I am of not getting eight contiguous hours of sleep every night? I wonder how many other menopausal women are sitting in front of their computers right now? or folding socks? or reading in bed? or reading downstairs where it's freezing because they don't want to wake up their partner who appears to be in stage 11 sleep?

I read a few days ago that the only real disability is a bad attitude (see paragraph one). Said by someone with a pretty sizable disability. I've been thinking about attitude a lot since then. Due to our situation here, I've been putting some pretty serious energy behind just taking things as they are, not worrying about the future, trusting that we'll figure something out no matter what happens. And I'm finding that it leaves the way open to shut off my brain which is forever trying to figure things out, running down this path and that. Staying in the moment seems to leave some space to enjoy myself more in the here and now, and to figure out my version of "a good attitude".

Ty and Kate brought exactly 3-month old Cameron over for a visit tonight. Our first "crying" visit. Note: Crying babies are cute if they are not yours. I could tell that he was majorly overdone and needed to get home and be rocked to sleep. His little body was tight, fists clenched and pulled up to his chest as he wailed out his discomfort. John and I are both hopelessly in love with the squirming bundle of life. I swear that we could both be totally happy just sitting around in rockers never getting dressed, passing him back and forth.