Month: March 2023

Welcome Spring

/ Ann Coleman / 59 Comments

Some people know that Spring has arrived when the flowers bloom, or the trees begin to bud.  Others mark the change of season by their schedules:  the kids’ Spring break, baseball’s opening day, or when the lawn service shows up to cut the grass.  But personally, I know it’s Spring when my Spring allergies arrive.  And today was that day.

I was spending the morning in my usual way, walking down the street with a shelter dog, just doing my normal Monday morning volunteer routine.  All was well until I suddenly began sneezing, loudly and repeatedly.  Then my nose started running, and I realized that I’d left all my tissues in my purse, which was locked in the trunk of my car.  “Well,” I thought, “apparently Spring has sprung.”

Despite suffering from seasonal allergies, I really do love Spring.  I love watching the dormant plants coming back to life, and how the sunlight lingers a little bit longer with each passing day.  Soon it will be time to put our patio furniture back out and to have the option of cooking (and eating) our dinners outside again.  And as weird as it sounds, I even love Spring cleaning.  Not the actual work, or course, but the chance it offers to get rid of the extra clutter and make our house look fresh and new again.

I also like the way Spring evokes happy memories of my childhood, like going to bed on a warm evening with the windows open, feeling the cool breeze and being lulled to sleep by the sounds of crickets chirping.  When I was a kid, Spring meant getting to stay up a little bit later, playing outside a little bit longer, and in general just being able to have a bit more fun.  I also knew that Summer was just around the corner, which meant the school year would soon be over and the swimming pools would soon be open.  Not the mention the annual arrival of the beloved ice cream truck….. There’s a lot to love about Spring, from a child’s point of view.

So even though it’s time for me to head to the store and stock up on tissues and antihistamines, I’m a happy camper.  Yes, I know I’ll suffer from the occasional sore throat (gotta love post-nasal drip), and that if I’m standing near strangers when my allergy symptoms are overpowering my allergy meds, I’ll watch them  discreetly take a couple of steps away.  (Thank you, recent Covid pandemic.)  And I know that the warmer temperatures mean the eventual return of mosquitoes, flies, and weeds.

But I don’t care.  Spring is here, in all its glory, and I’m glad.   Happy Spring, Everyone!

A Grand Surprise

/ Ann Coleman / 96 Comments

I have to be honest:  I didn’t see this coming.  In the first place, I never gave much thought to what my life would be like when I became, shall we say, “a woman of a certain age.”  Like most young people, I secretly believed aging was something that happened only to other people, but that I would maintain my youthful vigor right up to the day I died.  (Even if I lived to be 100.)

Yet slowly but surely, my body began to succumb to the ravages of time.  I still remember the morning I woke up and found I couldn’t read the newspaper because the print was suddenly fuzzy.  I blinked repeatedly and even put in eye drops, but nothing helped.  It took the better part of the day before I realized the time had come for reading glasses.  And the first time I noticed that my neckline was both sagging and full of wrinkles, I almost threw away my make-up mirror.  The only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that I couldn’t safely apply my mascara without it.

But what really surprises me about reaching the ripe old age of 64 is the change in my behavior. And this change can’t be blamed solely on my age.  I know for a fact that there are precisely three reasons why I am now doing and saying things I never thought I’d say or do, and those reasons are my three grandchildren.

To be honest, I didn’t give becoming a grandparent any more thought than I gave any other aspect of aging.  When I first heard that my daughter was going to have a baby, I was thrilled, but I didn’t really believe that becoming a grandparent would change me very much.  And yet it did.

From the first time I laid eyes on my new grandson, I was smitten. That’s only natural.  But the problem was that overnight, I turned into the typical obnoxious new grandparent.  I had tons of photos of my grandson, and I shared them with everyone who crossed my path.  How could they not want to see the most adorable child in the history of the world?

So imagine my surprise when grandchild number two came along.  Not only was she equally adorable, but she was my first granddaughter!  That had to be shared as well.  And not just by photos.  By the time I became a grandparent to two adorable children, I was also sending friends, family, and old schoolmates videos of them.  Regularly and relentlessly.

By the time the third grandchild was born (another boy), I was a hopeless case.  I talk about my grandchildren, I write about my grandchildren, I share photos and videos of my grandchildren with all and sundry, etc.  In short, I’m a typical grandparent who is hopelessly in love with the three little people who gave her that title.  And yes, it’s a sign of my age. But unlike those others, it’s a sign I happily embrace…..

Service Dog

/ Ann Coleman / 76 Comments

I’ve always been a helpful dog.  It’s just my nature.  When I see someone in need of assistance, I step right up and offer a helping paw.

Take yesterday, for instance.  Mom and Dad have been complaining for weeks about their internet service.  So yesterday, a technician came to fix it and I was right there, helping.  Even when it meant squeezing in next to his tool box, getting up close and personal, and turning a deaf ear to Dad telling me to get out of the way.  It took us almost three hours, but you know what?  We fixed it! And I know it would have taken much longer without my assistance.

I don’t like to brag about myself, but the truth is, I can help with just about anything.  I help around the house all the time.  Mom likes to keep a clean house, so whenever anyone spills food on the floor, I snarf it right up.  I also rearrange the throw pillows on the sofa from time to time, because she never places them just right.  But most importantly, I make sure our house stays free of pests, especially flies.  If I see a fly in the house, I chase it down until I catch it, even if it means jumping up on a table or crashing into the window blinds.  I’m that dedicated.  Once I catch the fly (and I always catch it eventually), I dispatch it humanely and neatly by eating it.  Flies don’t taste very good, but dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do.

I’m also very helpful in the yard.  I chase away any squirrels, rabbits or chipmunks that wander in before they can eat any of our flowers, and I bark (loudly and persistently) at any dog that goes by just to let them know I’m on duty here.  Constant vigilance is essential in these matters, despite what my parents seem to think.  (They may say they want me to be quiet, but I know that deep down, they’re grateful for my service.)  I also help Mom with her Spring planting by digging holes wherever I think the flowers should go.  She might not always use the holes I’ve dug, but I just know she appreciates the thought.

Still, I think the area where I really shine is childcare.  The grandchildren come over a lot, and when they do, I go to work.  First, I make sure they feel welcome when they walk in the door.  Lots of jumping, whining, excited barking, etc. lets them know just how glad I am they’re here.  But I’m good at other things too.  If they’re putting together a puzzle on the floor, I use my nose to push the pieces around to help them along.  If they’re served some food they don’t want to eat, all they have to do is slip it under the table to me and I dispose of it.  And if they’re throwing a ball around, I’ll chase it down and sometimes even bring it back to them.

Sure, it’s hard work to be so helpful all the time, but I don’t mind.  It’s what I’m good at, and besides….it’s the best way I know to show my family just how much they mean to me.

Love, Finn

It’s a Mystery

/ Ann Coleman / 86 Comments

When our children grew up and moved out of our house, my husband and I officially became “empty-nesters.”  I remember having mixed feelings about it, both proud of the adults my son and daughter had grown into, yet also feeling the loss of the children they had been.  But for the first time in years, I had empty closets, dresser drawers, and even empty storage containers on our basement shelves.  It was a strange and wonderful thing.

I remember standing in my son’s old bedroom in front of an empty dresser and wondering, “What am I going to put in it?”  Usually my problem was finding a place to store our stuff, not finding stuff to fill our storage space.  Eventually, I put my collection of antique post cards, our heating pad and extra throw blankets in that dresser, deliberately leaving one drawer empty so houseguests could use it to unpack and settle in properly.

That was approximately ten years ago, and sadly, finding stuff to put in empty storage space in our house is no longer a problem.  Somehow or other, we’ve filled every one of those closets, storage bins, and dressers.  The house that used to comfortably hold a family of four is now full to bursting, even though there are just two of us living there now.  And I have absolutely no idea how that happened.

I’m not a person who shops a lot, or who is comfortable having a lot of stuff.  I cull my wardrobe regularly, and make frequent trips to local donation centers with bags full of clothes and household items.   With the exception of my photo albums and my books, I’m not, and never have been, a “saver.”  If anything, my motto is “less is more.”  So how did I end up with a full house?

I can blame some of it on the grandchildren.  My grandmother kept a bedroom in her small bungalow reserved for grandchildren, and it always made me feel so welcome.  I wanted that for my own grandkids, so they have a dedicated room in our house, complete with toys, books, and a crib.  I also acquired a few things when my mom moved to a retirement community, which explains the large drum table wedged into our third bedroom.  My husband sometimes complains about it, but I grew up with that table and can’t seem to let it go.

Still, that doesn’t account for the overflowing storage shelves, the packed-to-capacity closets, the boxes underneath the pool table in the basement family room, etc.  We do a big clear out every couple of years, congratulating ourselves on successfully downsizing our stuff, but it’s always just a matter of time before those closets and shelves fill right back up.  I don’t understand it and I don’t like it, but it still happens.

I guess I just need to accept that this is one of life’s mysteries, like how we can put two matching socks in the washing machine and only one sock comes back out.  Or how we can diet for two weeks and lose one pound, but eat one piece of cheesecake and gain three.  Maybe some things just weren’t meant for us to know….