This funk is spiraling. Invading my daily life, like grocery shopping, or talking to one of my daughters. This funk, caused by my son’s decision to marry a woman who seemed perfectly normal for a couple years then kicked his sisters out of the wedding by text message….well, you get the picture. all the years of raising children and it never occurred to me that any of them would marry someone who so loves a fight. who is pulling him away from his family. I mean, you expect, as a mom, that your kid’s spouses might think YOU are a pain in the butt, or whatever. but this girl has turned on his sisters. wtf? so its spiraling..
My heart is tired. My head is tired. My sense of right and wrong is exhausted. The strain of 34 years of childraising, grandchild helping, husband nurturing, father caring for, mother straining to understanding….all of it, has me exhausted. So much so that I am having trouble seeing the light, feeling the strength and joy that usually surrounds me. And, I dont see an end to this.
So tonight my oldest daughter, her two kids and my husband went to the local minor league baseball game. Her oldest son, all of 4 years old, earned the tickets reading books during the school year with his dad. Dad couldn’t go, had to work late, so Pop Pop came home from work a bit early and they all climbed into her car —our daughter, her son, her 2 year old daughter and my husband, and went to the game.
She sent me 2 pictures. One, right after they arrived. Pizza on their laps, cuddling up, ready to watch some ball. The second, my husband holding our granddaughter. Both of them smiling, him holding her above his head, with those arms.
My husband has the best arms. Wide, strong, a little farmer tan up around the shoulder. Always holding, cradling something. Whether its a grandchild, me or the transmission from his 66 Nova, always holding something.
And for some reason those arms in that picture brought back a flood of memories. Such a strong man. Graduated high school and went to work while I finished college. Bought us a house and did his best to provide us with everything we wanted. Pouted when I went to work, feeling like he should do it all. Wanting those arms and that back to support us all.
Tonight my husband and our daughter took her kids to a minor league ball game. Her husband had to work late so Pop came home early and went along. She sent me two pictures. One after they got there, all snuggled up for the game, pizza in their laps and smiles on their faces.
Then, the picture of my husband holding our granddaughter above his head, all smiles. In his arms. Those arms. My husband has the best arms. Wide, strong. Edged with a bit of a “farmer” tan from working in the yard. Always holding something . Be it me, a grandchild or the water pump from his 66 nova, always holding something.
When I look at those arms I remember years of them holding me. Years of him using his arms and his back to support us, to try to do it all on his own. A proud man with a high school education who worked hard to give us what our friends had….and who balked when I went to work….
Those arms will never cease to make me feel warm, and wanted. And supported.
Today, I promise myself, that everyday, EVERYDAY, I will allow myself the luxury of going into my sewing studio and doing something, even if it is just take a deep breath.
when did It become ok for a young woman to disrespect an older woman? especially the older woman who is her fiancées mother? when did snippy answers and ego overtake upbringing and respect?
you get a reminder of just how good you have it. Today, I plodded through the mall with my oldest daughter, her two children and my youngest grandchild. All strollers, water bottles and star wars toys, we made a cute little group. Content. Then, we ran into an old old friend of mine, actually the woman who pushed me back into education so many years ago. Wonderful conversation, phone numbers exchanged. Nice. five minutes later we saw a recent colleague who oohed and ahhed over my adorable grandchildren and congratulated me again for my early retirement. AAAhhh….Turned the corner and ran almost head on into three of my most favorite students — all seniors this year. Adorable in their innocence, strolling the mall with smoothies in their hands. Hugs and “I miss you so much”….Sweet sweet memories of the things that make teachers stay as long as we do….Nostalgic. Leaving the mall, I caught, from the corner of my eye, the exquisite profile of my junior high phys. ed. teacher. Yup. I am 56, the WOMAN LOOKS JUST THE SAME! I called her name, she stopped, turned and said “yess??” Now, mind you its been 43 years, give or take a few, since I graced her gym in my green one piece “gymsuit”. And I can still hear her telling me to get my lazy butt up and “skin the cat on those ropes”….I alternated between hatred and respect for this woman, and today I just couldn’t hold back from hugging her, so many memories…
I mean, seriously? In the course of 2 hours, a former teacher, 3 former students, 2 colleagues, one recent and one very past….and all the while my grandchildren at my side? And my daughter? wonderful.
And a little later when my daughter and her children were leaving the restroom, a lady stopped to tell her how beautiful her daughter was. She thanked her and moved along. My 4 year old grandson said “who was that mommy?” She told him she didn’t know. His reply? “I bet grammy knows her”. Blessed, so blessed.