It’s time for a little break, so I’ll be absent from the blogging world for a short while. Looking forward to reconnecting with everyone when I return!
Ann
It’s time for a little break, so I’ll be absent from the blogging world for a short while. Looking forward to reconnecting with everyone when I return!
Ann
There’s a lot to love about Spring. The warmer temperatures, the bright colors on the trees as they sprout new buds, and the gorgeous array of flowers are all welcome signs that Winter is finally over. Spring is a time of hope, when nature seems to reawaken and we venture outside without bundling up first. It’s easy to understand why many people call it their favorite season, and I’m certainly always happy to see it arrive.
But Spring has its downside as well, and not just for those of us who suffer from seasonal allergies. (Though the runny nose, sore throat, itchy eyes and sneezing isn’t any picnic to live with, especially these days when every single allergy symptom is also on the list of Covid symptoms.) The problem with Spring, for me anyway, is that it involves a whole lot of work.
Spring cleaning my house is simply the beginning. Once I’ve given everything a thorough cleaning and airing, including painting touch-ups, I help my husband with the yard. We set up our patio furniture, rake the last of our neighbor’s leaves off our grass, haul out our flower pots to refill, trim bushes and plants, and spread the newly-delivered mulch. The big box-store commercials make preparing our yards for Spring look like so much fun, but after a few hours of steady work, trust me, the thrill wears off.
And then there’s the worst job of all: my annual “shifting of the wardrobe.” This involves removing all the Winter/Fall clothes from my closet and dresser and replacing them with my warm-weather clothes. It sounds easy, I know, but I struggle with this job each year. Spring’s fluctuating temperatures makes deciding what I should pack away and what I should leave out for another few weeks rather difficult. Then there’s the whole question of what I should do with a sweater that I bought (on sale, from a high-end store) three years ago and haven’t worn once. Or the blouse that I’ve worn many times, because I’ve been wearing it for twelve years. Just how long is too long to hang on to a blouse? These are not decisions that I make easily.
I know my life would be simpler if I lived in a house that had a closet big enough to store all my clothes year-round. But as hard as it is for me to sort through everything two or three times a year, I also know it’s actually a good thing. It forces me to evaluate my clothes and make a conscious decision on exactly what I want to keep, and helps me recognize when the time has come to get rid of a sweater I once loved but has long since lost its shape and no longer fits. It’s sort of a “fashion renewal.”
I still love Spring, despite my allergies and all the work it brings. Sprucing up our yard, buying new flowers to plant, and weeding out my wardrobe is worth the effort, because discarding what no longer works and actively making room for new things gives me hope. And the hope that comes from renewal is the very best part of Spring.
I got a letter from the gas company today, threatening to turn our gas off if we didn’t contact them immediately to schedule a safety inspection for our gas meter. I had already scheduled the inspection and it was completed three days ago. According to the inspector, our meter passed. I don’t know if the inspector failed to turn his report in, or if the gas company sent the letter before he did so, but the upshot was that I called the gas company’s customer service department and was on hold for a long time before getting a recording saying, “All our representatives are busy now, please leave a voice mail and we’ll get back to you soon.” That was three hours ago, and I’m still waiting.
In the grand scheme of things, this is not a huge problem. I’m sure it will get sorted out eventually, and even if they do turn our gas off temporarily, we have electric space heaters and I can cook in our electric toaster oven. But it is annoying and something I’d rather not deal with.
Lately, I’ve found myself getting far too annoyed at “the little things.” When a neighbor decided to keep her trash cans at the curb next to our driveway, I was really offended, and not just because it’s against the city ordinances. It bothered me to look out my window and see them there. I got upset when there was only one checker working in the store on a busy Saturday morning, resulting in a long wait to check out with my groceries. It seemed that the little things were adding up, and I was reacting with both anger and impatience.
Which meant that it was time for a good old-fashioned “attitude adjustment.” Yes, life has been difficult for the past two years and continues to be in many ways. But the reality is that if I can pay enough attention to the little things to become annoyed by them, then I can also pay enough attention to the little things to react in a more positive way. The trick is simply to pay attention to different little things.
Rather than look out my window and see ugly trash cans, I can focus on the beautiful daffodils or the lovely purple buds on our young tree. Instead of being frustrated by how hard it is to schedule family gatherings at holidays, I can be thankful that my son and daughter live close enough that we always get to celebrate the holidays with them and their families. I can be thankful that my husband and I are able to eat inside our favorite restaurants again, be grateful that today’s storms didn’t cause any damage in our area, and thrilled that one of my favorite shelter dogs was finally adopted.
Yes, the little things do count, and they do have a very real effect on our moods. But the good news is that the positive little things add up just as quickly as the negative ones, and they produce a much, much better result. And the choice of which little things we pay attention to is ours……
I’ve never claimed to be good at aging gracefully. Far from it. I tend to resent most of the changes that aging has caused: the sags and wrinkles, the sore joints, the inability to read small print, the forgetfulness, the loss of strength and stamina. I complain bitterly about all of it, and am often shocked when I look in the mirror and am literally “faced” with the difference between how I picture myself and how I actually look. When I shop for new clothes, I find myself wondering if a certain style is too young for me, and yet I’m still offended if a sales clerk offers me a senior discount. Far too often, my reaction to aging has been a mixture of confusion and dismay.
And yet……I can’t deny that there are a few benefits to being a “woman of a certain age.” I have a far better sense of self than I ever did when I was young, and even not-so-young. I have acquired a certain bit of wisdom that steadies me when I’m faced with the roller coaster of current news and trends, and I’m thankful for the perspective that my age has given me. If I’m entirely honest, I have to say that I actually value the intellectual and emotional aspect of aging, and what I resent is really just the physical part.
The good news is that I’ve finally figured out that there’s something that makes coping with my aging body just a little bit easier, and that something is being a grandmother. My three grandchildren bring me great joy, but as odd as it sounds, they also help me accept all the physical changes that I used to resent so much.
So what if I have a sagging chin? I’m a grandmother, not a new mom! And those reading glasses I have stashed all over the house (and in my purse, and in my car) are normal for grandparents. My grandparents wore glasses all the time, after all. And maybe I am wearing “mom jeans” when I go out in public, but what else do you expect from a woman is actually a grandma? Looking at it that way, I’m actually dressing young for my age. Embracing my role as a grandmother is truly kind of liberating, because it takes away the pressure that so many women my age feel to look and act younger than we really are.
When I was younger, I never thought I’d be happy spending a Friday night rocking a baby to sleep or bathing a toddler, but the truth is, I am. Sometimes I still feel a bit surprised by the fact that I have three grandchildren now, but trust me, it’s a happy surprise. I’m no longer young, and that’s a fact. But luckily, I’ve got three precious reasons to be grateful for this new stage of my life, and when all is said and done, all I really feel is blessed……