Defining “Me”
Janet (Janet) proper noun
definition 1. Wife, Mother, Grandmother
If someone were to ask me to define myself, this would be my response. I am 3 titles. Wife, Mother, Grandmother. This is who I am.
I know at one point, before I acquired these titles, I was simply “me”. But I can barely remember who that was now. A lifetime has passed. Many paths taken. Many right turns, many wrong turns. Many doors opened, and closed.
When I crossed over my first threshold....Marriage, I think I was so caught up in being part of that institution, I eagerly abandoned what was just “me” in the process. This is a natural progression I am sure, but then again that’s how it began. Shedding layers of me to become “we”.
Then came Motherhood. “Hood” is the key word here. I was definitely part of something bigger than myself. All my thoughts, actions and reactions, all led back to my children, and how it affected them. The bonds of loyalty unsurpassed.
And being a Grandmother? Well most women will tell you it is our reward for all the sacrifice and selflessness of Motherhood. And for the most part, this is true. I wear this title like a tiara, in all it’s crowning glory!
And yet I can’t help but wonder. What happened to Me? And is it possible to be me again without having to relinquish any of my titles?
Now that I am in my declining years, I often find myself saying, “It is what it is”. But.....is it?
So I am thinking this is the time to do it. Finding Me, Defining Me.
Don’t misunderstand. I don’t expect to become an astronaut or anything. That would be funny.....move over Curiosity, Senility is coming up!
I just want to find “Me” again. I’ll keep you posted : )
Growing up watching my share of “I Love Lucy” repeats, I became a quick study of how “not” to attempt to do things beyond my realm of competence. I never hang my own wall paper, sneak into chorus lines, or take jobs on assembly lines (ie candy factories).
So yesterday when I attempted to repair my fence, I felt completely confident it was a task I could accomplish with little drama.......or so I thought.
It was a simple job of reinforcing a few slats in our grape stake fence. It is an old fence. One with all the wear and character that enhances the look of my wild, unplanned and sometimes beautiful backyard. The weather was perfect. The sun not too bright and the bees hadn’t begun their own workday yet. All was good.
I decided to start on the far side of the fence and work towards the middle. After a few boards were securely hammered, I noticed a slat had become dislodged at the bottom and needed to be pulled back. I stuck my arm between two boards.....and then it happened. I couldn’t pull it back out. Somehow I managed to push my arm through a space that curiously (and almost mockingly) became smaller! This seemed impossible to me. Logic would have it that if my arm could make it through, I should be able to pull it back out with no problem! Yet, the more I struggled, the harder it squeezed! I was trapped. It was a total “Lucy Moment”.......minus Ethel.
I started to panic. No neighbors home to hear me yell, no phone within reach, and no one scheduled to come by. Crying was not an option, no kleenex. And even though I knew I wouldn’t have to chew my arm off (after all my husband would be home in 7 hours), I was one unhappy gal.
Then I got to thinking. So what was the worst case scenario? I get a little too much sun, I get dehydrated, my arm becomes permanently crooked (no real chance of that happening), I miss a couple of meals......just the thought of that made me ravenous!
Then there were my dogs. My two little worthless chihuahuas, staring at me with their big brown eyes. Seeing my predicament, and totally indifferent! To make matters worse, I am pretty sure I knew what was going on in their minds........”how we getting back in the house, you’re the only one who can reach the door knob”?
Where was Lassie when you needed her?
Here was my flow of thought during the next 10 minutes. Yes, it was only about 10 minutes (okay maybe 9, but it seemed infinite at the time) before I wrenched myself free. What is worse? Kicking a hole in the fence, acquiring 1000 splinters while yanking my arm back, and how long will it take me to live this down considering I was going to be busted one way or another! But mostly I wished I had something to read. I know, I’m weird.
When I finally did manage to set myself free, I immediately thanked God. Then I put the hammer and nails away, applied first aid to the injured arm, and resigned myself to wearing long sleeved shirts for awhile. Oh, and swore my dogs to secrecy.
But being who I am, I knew I was going to have to share this story with someone. So I called my daughter. And in a voice crackling half with laughter and half tears, I proceeded to confess my Lucy Moment. Needless to say, she half laughed and half cried with me.
Then she suggested Life Alert.
Remember that movie where some guy opens a window and yells out, “I am sick of this crap, and I’m not going to take it anymore”! Well, it went something like that. I don’t remember exactly what he said. But I am beginning to know exactly how he felt. Because my anxiety regarding the limitations of “aging” is increasing by the minute.
And I’m not talking physicality here... (is that a word)?
It began innocently. In my 50’s I think. I started to find myself drifting toward age appropriate clothing. It was a subtle move. Not something I woke up and decided I was going to do. But as time went on, little by little, I noticed I was eliminating certain styles, cuts and colors from my wardrobe.
This may seem like the appropriate thing to do for women my age. Lengthening our skirts, raising our necklines, covering our arms. But where does it end? I am getting to the point where I feel like it is just easier to stay home, than to go through all the trouble it takes not to “offend” anyone with my aging body parts!
Whoever said “Growing Old Isn’t For Sissies” hit the nail on the head. There is a book out there dealing with every phase of life, from gestation to geriatrics. But nothing that deals with this “transitional period”. You know, the “Im old, but not that old stage”.
Somehow I don’t think men suffer from the same dilemma. I really don’t know very many men who care whether they are showing too much of anything! Some might even consider their lack of “decorum” part of their charm.........think again Old Man!
So I’m back to me and the “age appropriate” wardrobe thing. And I still haven’t decided which way to go. And like I said, it is not the biggest issue on my mind. I do lead a full life. I read, I exercise, I garden. And I spend the most time with my grandchildren that I possibly can.
Come to think of it though, going over to my daughter’s house recently sort of brought this all to the forefront.
While I was in her driveway getting out of my car, I hear my little grandson yelling “my grama’s here, my grama’s here”. Then I see him running out the iron gates stark naked! Free as a bird! Ahh......to be 2 again. Not that I remember being 2. But just the simplicity of it all is what grabbed me.
Just how is this aging thing supposed to work anyhow? Is it considered more admirable to grow old gracefully? Or do I want to go down fighting? I can’t seem to make up my mind.
But until I do, and depending on how I feel on a given day, I might leave the house in a boat necked “three quarter length sleeve” top. And the next day, a plunging V necked “sleeveless” Tee.
Because this is America, and last I heard, we still have the right to Bare Arms,
(dimpled or not).
The Getaway Girls
Recently I took time out of my regular routine to spend a long weekend with two of my dearest friends. This is something we've tried to do at least once a year for almost ten now. It is a “girls only” event and something I really look forward to.
Because the three of us live in opposite directions, we meet at a place that is equal driving distance for us all. It also happens to be near one of the largest Outlet Malls in Southern California.....Go Figure!
As always, a few days before leaving town, I start preparing for my trip. This includes preparing my “husband” for my trip. Because as much as he likes to think he manages very well on his own, I am 100% sure he doesn't have a clue as to what goes into creating that impression.
Refrigerator and pantry stocked with food, junk and hearty ....yes
Clean laundry at his fingertips.... yes
List of phone numbers pinned on bulletin board.... yes
Dog's routine written out, (with reminder to refresh water daily.)...yes
Okay, after packing the car and saying my goodbyes, I am ready to hit the road. I have a two hour drive before meeting up with my “peeps”.
This word I borrowed from my grown children's vernacular because it seems to fit right in with the spirit of things.
After all, this weekend is all about keeping it simple, uncomplicated, and recapturing the carefree attitude of our youth.
On the agenda.....
To laugh till our stomachs ache, and eat. To purge whatever ails us, and eat. To shop till we drop, and eat.
No examples to set, no wisdom to spew. Just me and my precious friends who make me smile, and allow me to be nothing more than who I am.
Finally, I'm in my car. Seat belt buckled, bottled water within reach, phone set for hands free. A few quick turns, and I'm on my way!
As always, I tune the radio to a Classic Oldies station and turn up the volume. Nobody here to complain about that, or my singing.
First song I hear is from the 60's. Here we go. A time when I was single, slim, and sexy... or at least that's the way I remember it.
But as I'm singing and bopping along with the music, (proud of myself for remembering most of the words), I catch a glimpse of two baby car seats in the rear view mirror.
Yes, I am a grandma. And I am in my 60's. But I really don't feel much differently now than how I remember feeling at 16!
And I suspect I'm not the only old gal out there experiencing this same mind and body “disconnect”.
So the singing and bopping continue!
Because it is a long drive and I am alone, my mind starts to wander back home and to all the little “dramas” going on there. It is almost as if my “baggage” clicked out it's wheels, attached itself to my car, and is now trying to hitch a ride to my party.
No way, No how, am I letting that happen!
Because if I have learned anything after all these years, and all these getaways, it is that there is nothing more therapeutic than a weekend with my friends. These women who would defend my honor to the death (even if I am wrong). Insist my ass does not look huge in those pants (even if it does). And cry along with me when I share a secret that weighs heavy on my heart.
As I turn into the hotel, I see that I am the last to arrive. My two friends are sitting on the veranda watching my approach. One friend waving her hands over her head and dancing a little jig. The other one looking over at her like she is nuts. And me, smiling from ear to ear, looking back at them....
“Let the healing begin”!
Dedicated to my dear friends, Kathy and Dianne
Is it just me? Or has anyone else noticed how much time we devote to “photography” these days?
Our society seems to be preoccupied with capturing every moment of our lives in some sort of freeze frame...digital, video, jpg, img. and whatever else is out there. We record it all.
So when exactly did every move we make become so memorable?
When I was growing up picture taking was a more sacred event. First there had to be some sort of occasion. Birthday, prom, wedding, vacation etc. Then there was the set up.
Batteries... check, flashbulbs....check, hair combed...check. Okay, everyone in place? Don’t move,
“Say Cheese”!
This whole procedure was followed by the essential “do over”. So that when the pictures were finally developed, we had a choice between the lesser of two evils.
Fast forward to the 21st century...
Today’s technology gives picture taking a whole new meaning. As easily as we can pick up a phone, we can take a picture.
At the mall?...take a picture, at a bar? ....take a picture. You know where I am going with this.
And as a result of this technology, even the most inept can produce a good photo.
Click, view, delete.... repeat until image has reached desired affect. Anyone can do it!
Add “editing” capabilities and we are all experts!
Yes, preserving “great moments” these days is a snap! And with this new hi tech intervention, these great moments can seem even better than they actually were! For example.....
Didn’t Uncle Harold have a cigarette in his hand in this shot? (must have brushed it out) And didn’t cousin Cindy have on pants 2 sizes too small? (must have cropped them off) And thank goodness someone had the decency to delete the shot altogether of Aunt Joyce getting frisky with that waiter!!
But technology does have a downside. It’s called the Internet. Because once you are snapped, you are “out there”.... to infinity and beyond. You can be unwillingly captured by a digital camera, or cell phone, and within seconds be transported to the likes of You tube, facebook, or just about any other internet site before a whimper of protest can escape your throat. Technology shows no mercy.
I’m not complaining. Not really. In fact this whole hi tech thing has really worked to my advantage. Only in this day and age does a grandparent have the capability to light up the “screens” of 20 of their closest friends with the latest images of their adorable grandchildren. And they in turn can retaliate, (I mean respond), in seconds with pictures of their own!
Something that bothers me though....Is posterity now at the mercy of technology?
Fewer photo albums are adorning our coffee tables. Refrigerators seem a little less decorative.
And what happens to all these images? Are they trapped in Cyber Space forever? It just seems cruel somehow.
Oh well. I guess we just have to chalk it up to progress! Can’t really dwell on how it was “back in the day”. Progress is a good thing, right?
Now if I can just find that little 2x3 black and white of me as a kid....
Great, here it is.
Ahh, now that’s a cute picture! Wait, what was that? Did I just hear a “click”?
Hey, not fair!....you could have at least have said, “Say Cheese" !
Okay, I just turned 60 and my memory is not what it used to be. Should I be worried? I know we all forget things sometimes. But lately “sometimes” is occupying more space than it should.
Forgetting names, birthdays and appointments is everyday stuff. We all do it. But when I am in my car driving down the road, and it takes me 15 seconds to remember where I am going....now that is not good.
Last week my husband explained to me (for the 10th time) how to upload a photo on our computer to another application. I really did think it was pretty straight forward, but when I went to do it today......I forgot!
Immediately I got down on my hands and knees and thanked God I am retired. If I can’t remember the smallest of tasks, how could I manage going to work everyday??
I have a system. I make a list. It is divided into two sections, the To Do side and the To Buy side. When I leave the house, I grab my list and go! When I need to refer to my list, I rummage through my purse to retrieve it.
After successfully finding the piece of familiar tablet paper, I realize it is last week’s list!
I start to panic. Did I mail back my movies? And did I really pay the house taxes??
So much for the list.
I’m told that as we get older our “long term” memory starts to kick in. But what if we don’t want it to?? I have spent half my adult life trying to forget some of the stupid things I have said and done in the past. How do we stop this? Can I trade it for something else? Let’s say “long term” memory for the ability to spell again? Now that would be useful!
Well, I have to trust that God knew what he was doing when he created the guidelines for memory. After all, how many of us women would have had a second child if we indeed had “total recall” of the first experience?
So, these days I am trying to accept living in ignorant bliss.
Hopefully, I will forget that I ever had a jawline or a waistline, and drive by the jogging park completely forgetting that is where I was headed!
And as long as I don’t forget where I hid the chocolate...... I can live with it!!
The Art of Window Shopping
For those of you familiar with my work, you would be correct to assume that this article is just another humorous little story. A story about women our age, and the things we experience as a “community” that bring a collective smile to our faces.
Well this time…..and just this time, I have decided to take the path of enlightenment as opposed to amusement.
Now, I’m not really focusing on Shopoholics here. That is a completely different and more serious syndrome (to be dealt with another time).
I’m talking about women, who more often than should, suffer from Buyers Remorse. A side affect most women try to conceal like a “fungal infection”.
The following bit of information should be considered required reading for every woman. And passed down like a coveted recipe from mother to daughter, from generation to generation. It concerns, “The Art Of Window Shopping”.
Ha! You say. What’s the big deal? Anyone can do that. No need for instruction.
And I suppose there are a few of you out there with the will power to leave the mall free of articles with hanging tags. But I’m not one of them. So for those of you like me, who sometimes “really” do want to come home empty handed, this is for you….
Dressing to window shop.
It is imperative to always leave your home in complicated attire. This means clothes that button, not zip (and preferably in the back). Required body contortions can be a deterrent for even the most determined of shoppers. If the season calls for it, layer. There is nothing worse than having to peel off 3 layers of clothing while trying to accommodate a hot flash in a tiny cubicle with no place to sit down.
Also, wear unflattering underwear. It is easier to look at ones self in the mirror in silky black high cut bikini panties than in a pair of oversized, cotton, high-waisted granny drawers.
And make sure your shoes are ones that are difficult to put on and take off. Boots are a good choice. Or choose shoes that require you to bend over and buckle. No mules, slip ons, or flip-flops….way too easy.
Do not carry a comb, brush, or pick in your purse when window shopping. All women will think twice before trying on an article that will muss their hair if they know they are without these items.
And most importantly, leave the “plastic” home (no need to elaborate).
Okay, that covers the part before you reach the department store.
Once you are in…follow this strategy.
If you happen to be in a store that provides carts, do not take one! If you have to carry around your prospects, you are less likely to pick them up. Also, for some unknown reason, women are more inclined to stand in line and purchase a cart full of unwanted frivolous items, than walk around the store replacing them. So no carts.
When shopping in better department stores, more discipline is required. Clothing displayed in these stores is done in such a provocative way; it can lead even the most savvy of shoppers into believing that they too, like the “zero size” headless mannequin, would look amazing in a tight fitting, waist cinching neon green sweater! (Dangling earrings not included). So be warned.
And if you do find a separate (a top or bottom) that is to die for, ask yourself. What do I already own that I could pair it with? Because you know the trap, one great find begets another! If nothing comes to mind, put it down.
When in “Housewares” and are drawn to something you consider unique or avant-garde, consider this. Will the purchase of this one piece require the repainting, rearranging, or updating of the room it will occupy? In cases like these, the piece is overpriced… regardless of cost.
Or if an item is Seasonal, do you have a place to store it when not in use? Too many of us ignore this dilemma when “Holiday” shopping.
Another deterrent, will this item need frequent dusting? I have been known to pass up the perfect knickknack if it contained too many crevices for dust to accumulate. Not that I am a fussy housekeeper. I just don’t want to feel guilty for ignoring it. And ladies, leave your “girly sized” tape measures at home. If you aren’t sure of the appropriate dimensions, you are less inclined to buy it.
Also, purchasing things under the guise of “being helpful” is a bust. Let your daughter pick out her own bathroom towels. No matter if they are 70% off and a good label! She will probably end up returning them anyhow!
The final test is to ask yourself, if I bring this item home, will it remain in the car until the coast is clear? And when it does make it into the house, will it find a place under the bed next to other impulse purchases? Or can I proudly display this item in front of the whole family and announce that it is a Need, not a Want!
Now I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture.
Window Shopping is an Art. And it should be consciously practiced and learned.
And if you become good at it, it should never cost you more than the price of gas to and from the mall. Think of it. No more guilt. No more regrets. And no more mad dashes back to the store to return things.
Hopefully, for those of you who too often suffer from Buyers Remorse, this article will have been helpful. And you too after time, will master the “Art of Window Shopping”. And for the rest of you out there (in denial) what the heck!
Happy Hunting!!
Lately, when I pick up a book or magazine, I find myself drawn to what I consider
“age appropriate” material.
And it’s not just reading material. This goes for everything….clothes, shoes, purses, even cars!
Yes, it’s true. I’m almost sixty now. But when did my brain start reflecting my body
image?..... my sagging, softening body image?
I wholeheartedly subscribe to the adage, “You’re as young as you feel”! And I don’t feel old! So why is my mind acting old? I never gave the Okay!
That’s what scares me. I didn’t see it coming!
Of course I’ve joked about it. You know, the Senior Moment and Hot Flash references.
And I have accepted the term Middle-Age without protest, but old?
Heck, I used to be a Hippie! (Well I would have been, but I was allergic).
I should have had an inkling, a hint I was turning that corner, when a young co-worker said to me, “You’re so cool”. And then without warning…..
“I want to look just like you, when I’m Old”.
What??....... I’m Old??
How did this happen? Does old age really sneak up on you? I’ve heard the expression before. Never even considered it would happen to me!
But come to think of it, I am starting to display some of the same annoying behavior my mother once did.
Cases in point…
When in a waiting room or somewhere else that requires me to sit for a long period of time, I clutch my handbag close to my body. What exactly do I think is going to happen to it? I used to chuckle when I saw “old ladies” guarding their purses like that!
And also, I’ve become more “outspoken” in public.
While shopping in department stores, I find myself handing out unsolicited advice.
The other day I noticed a young gal trying to decide between two dresses.
I immediately pipe up, “Oh take the black, it is much more versatile!”
Like she really cares what some old bag thinks!
I always hated when my mom did that…chatted with other shoppers. Who cares?
Just stick to the program. Get in, and get out. Much more efficient!!
And bargain shopping! I now waste valuable gasoline dollars hop/scotching from supermarket to supermarket to save 50 cents! When did I become Ms. Thrifty?
I didn’t even grow up in the Depression!
But one of my all time, eye rolling, and nerve grating annoyances was to listen to my mother repeat the same story over and over again! Why did she find it so hard to remember “yesterday”?
Then recently in a conversation with my daughter, I offered up a bit of gossip. Something I considered juicy and shocking. Then, as if adding salt to a wound, she immediately shoots back with, “I know Mom. You told me three times already”.
OMG! When did I turn into my mother??
My mother in law, (God rest her soul), was never a very comforting person. She used to take what I thought was way too much pleasure in repeating the phrase,
“There is nothing good about getting old, and don’t let anyone tell you there is”!
Hmmm….
Don’t know if that’s necessarily true…. In fact, if you think about it, there are some advantages!
Just off the top of my head…..
Haven’t you noticed that all seniors brazenly speak their mind (but out loud) in public places without caring who hears? Criticizing someone’s attire, or commenting on another’s “size”. Or delivering a sarcastic insult behind a veiled smile.
I know that must be a perk because all “old” people do it!
And they can say, “I told you so” at least 5 times a day and be right.
Because they most likely did say so, and were ignored. And now they get to bask in smug satisfaction.
And old people are allowed to get lost in hospitals and parking lots without having to feel foolish. And sometimes people even offer their assistance!
Old people are the recipients of surrendered seats on crowded subways. And are treated with a little more respect when returning items without a receipt. They even get assistance in the reaching, lifting , and carrying, of heavy items. And who doesn’t run ahead to open a heavy door for a little old lady?
But most importantly, are the senior discounts. Just 10% off is enough to put a “jig” in anyone’s step!
And I have never once seen any person (man or woman) with gray hair who didn’t have the correct change!
So even though the chronological aspect of aging is inevitable. On the inside, I’m most definitely still me!
The same me I was 40 years ago. The same me that rode roller coasters and snuck into drive-in movies. The same me that used fake ID’s to get into dance clubs ( and other best forgotten places).
And the same me that fell in love at first sight. That all consuming, aching love that comes with youth and innocence…..never again recaptured.
And so what if I do find myself gravitating towards three quarter length sleeves and rhinestone studded pill organizers.
I have managed to find a silver lining in every stage of my life. So I intend to sail right through this one with humor and class, (picture a cross between Maxine and Sally Fields).
There is no turning back now, literally…..
And that little co-worker of mine…..
Well, I think she will be damn lucky if she does end up looking like me, when she is old!
