checking in.....

It has been a while since I last posted. "Thank you" to those of you who missed me and asked if everything was ok.

It is.

I just made a decision (perhaps unconsciously) to be more present in the moment.

I could spend hours a day on the computer, justifying this time knowing my husband, too, was on his computer...playing solitaire.

But we were living separate lives, not connecting, even if we were in the same room.

He would call out, "I love you!"

I would respond, "I love you too!"

He would repeat, "I LOVE you!"

I would respond, "I LOVE you too!"

and this would continue until I made eye contact and said, "I REALLY LOVE YOU!"

Then he would smile and say, "That's what I wanted!"

You see, it's not what we necessarily say...or hear...it's that moment of connection that requires us to be PRESENT.

So I'm spending more time being present...not just being there....and less time at the computer, being somewhere else.

Being there for Him.

Being there for my husband.

Being there for myself.

I will certainly post again. Being present doesn't stop the ideas swirling around in my head. Ideas that have no other outlet than right here.

We are in a season that demands some major adjustments. Maybe that is why I sense the need to be present right now.

For whatever reason, that may be more clear as time passes, I choose to be right here, right now.

My blogging life will have to get in line.

When did this happen?

We moved to this house in 1994. One of the attractions to this neighborhood was the predominance of basketball hoops in the driveways; with two teenage boys still at home, it was definitely a selling point.

Fast forward to 2009. The basketball hoops are still there but the teenage boys are not. None. To our west we now have a young family with 3 little boys, the oldest of whom is in 1st grade. To our east is another young family with a 4 year old boy and a 2 year old girl.

We love watching these children play outside our front window. They run back and forth across our yard, learning to ride bikes, playing super heroes and today, conquering a huge mound of topsoil that was delivered to one driveway. I wish I could share a picture, but they are not my children and they have a right to privacy.

So when did this happen? When did we become the "old folks" on the block?

Why didn't I see this coming?

Who promised us "balance" anyway?

In her Monday Musings post today, Octamom wrote on the subject of balance in our lives. Can we attain it? Is it feasible?

"Is that ideal of 'balance' just a 21st century dream...did our ancestors ponder on such things?"

I think just the fact that we spend so much time pondering the notion of balance is a statement on how far we have strayed from the reality of our ancestor's lives.

With the exception of the wealthy who had a staff to negotiate the duties of running a home and family, I doubt that most of our ancestors even had the time to spare to consider the notion of balance. Whether agrarian or post industrial, there was simply too much to do in the course of a day.

People worked their entire lives

....without days off, without timesaving equipment and comforts that we often take for granted

....without the notion that someday their "work" responsibility would cease and they would retire and do nothing

....without the guilt associated with trying to do it or have it all, and failing to feel comfortable with the outcome.

Well, maybe they did feel guilty.

It's probably fair to assume that whenever and wherever one has lived, it would be impossible to get it all done. Some days would be easier, some fraught with challenges. Some days would be full of joy, some filled with worry and anguish. We, as they surely did, just have to go to bed at the end of the day knowing we did the best we could with what we had.

Let's stop torturing ourselves with the notion that we can balance on that high wire. Everyone who tries to walk that high wire falls...EVERYONE. Life should be more like riding a swing: you'll have highs and lows put if you keep pumping you'll have the breeze in your face and you'll get a pretty good view at the top!

I lost it....

Sometimes the demands of the day.....even if they are nothing out of the ordinary, nothing earth shaking, nothing traumatic........sometimes it just gets to be too much.

Last week I had one of those days.

We were moving from one timeshare about 8 miles south to a second timeshare. I spent Friday packing our belongings into boxes and suitcases and bags.

My Honey played computer solitaire, as usual.

I loaded the Expedition. Things were snug. My Honey made some remarks about my packing skills...we weren't moving across the country for heavens' sake, just down the road!

We checked out and looked to fill the 3 hours before we could check into our other villa.

So we picked up prescriptions at Walgreens.

Bought a few groceries at Krogers off-island.

Did a walkabout in World Market and Pier One.

Picked out a movie at Blockbuster.

Did a drive-by of the villa to see if by chance it was ready. The door was open and the cleaning crew was working away.

Returned to a church sidewalk sale we had passed on the way in. Found a Gap sweater and capri pants for one of my granddaughters - 50 cents. My Honey found cookies - $1

Stopped at the Harris Teeter to pick up the milk we couldn't have bought earlier. Also found thin crust pizza 2 for 1 so bought that too. Now the car was really full.

Met the cleaning crew at the front door...all was ready! All new tile floors downstairs and new carpet on the stairs and second floor! New drapes! Fresh paint!

Everything was lovely!

So I start to unpack the Expedition. My Honey helps and I try to "arrange" what he will carry with his one good arm and hand so that it is manageable and not breakable should he lose his grip. This exercise is always a little tense since he believes he can carry anything.

We get everything inside and he sets up his computer to play solitaire.

I unpack.

Now this kitchen has a pantry that will hold everything we bring and more. It has five 6-foot long shelves on metal brackets behind two bifold doors. I have unpacked almost all of our stuff when CRASH THUD BANG....the shelf second from the top collapses, spilling its contents over me and onto the floor! I instinctively reach up and hold onto the shelf, trying to balance it and prevent any further damage. It is wedged in tightly. I cannot remove it from the pantry. I cannot replace it since the brackets have all fallen. I can barely hold onto it!

My Honey, sitting ten feet away from me, continues to play solitaire.

I could use a little help here!!!! I yell.

If I weren't so tired from the packing, loading, unloading and unpacking I might have seen some humor at the spectacle of two people with three good hands between them trying to right a fallen shelf. But I didn't. I couldn't. I had just reached the end of my rope of being capable, of being able to handle life, of getting it all done and keeping it all together. We couldn't do anything but push it to the back of the pantry. And then I walked out. All the way to the bathroom. Where I silently screamed. Oh, I am dangerous.

The shelf is still there, wedged perpendicular to the shelf below it.

And there it will stay.

And my Honey is back playing solitaire.

Where did I put that?

 
I'm always forgetting where I put my car keys
 
or my cell phone
 
or my camera
 
or I forget to bring my shopping bags into the store
 
and I forget the grocery list too.
 
I'm not really concerned that this could be the oneset of any form of dementia.
 
I think most of us experience this sort of forgetfulness from time to time. More often than not it's because we're just not paying attention. We're thinking about what we have should be doing or should have done, what we have to do in an hour, tomorrow or next week. And we are totally not thinking in the moment.
 
Today I lost the top to my coffee carafe. I took the carafe from the coffee maker, removed the top, rinsed the carafe and set it down. I put a new filter in the coffee maker, measured out the coffee, closed it up. Returned to the carafe on the counter and reached for the top. No top. Not on the counter. Not in the sink. Not on the kitchen table.
 
I JUST HAD IT IN MY HAND!!
 
I really thought I was losing my mind.
 
I looked on the floor. I looked in the cupboard. I looked in the refrigerator.
 
My husband was no help. He just laughed at me.
 
Come on now, I wouldn't throw it away!
 
Or would I?
 
So I checked the garbage can under the sink. There it was, right on top.
 
I have no excuse. I cannot believe I threw it away. What was I thinking?
 
Well, that's just it, isn't it? I wasn't thinking. Making coffee is something I can do in my sleep so I obviously wasn't paying attention.
 
I am living a double life. Disturbing on so many levels.
 

Rescue me!

 
As a child I often walked in my sleep. I would stumble around my bedroom, dreaming I was somewhere else, crashing into furniture and walls until one of my parents woke and came in to rescue me.
 
Ten years ago the dreams that troubled me were ones in which I would get lost. I could be driving or walking and suddenly take a turn that would take me into unknown territory. I could go round and round in circles, aware that I should know these streets. I might even enter an office building and not be able to find my way out. My solution of last resort, and my favorite if I could manage it, would be to levitate myself above the rooftops and fly away. I loved that sensation and usually headed out toward the coast, regardless of my point of origin.
 
Of late, however, I am once again actively participating in my dreams.
 
I don't know if perhaps life's circumstances have made me feel more protective, the defender of the family. Since my Honey's stroke, we have, of necessity, redefined our relationship and our life.
 
Over the past couple of years my dreams find me in a dangerous situation where I must engage in physical combat. I usually wake myself up when I cry out or shout. My poor husband has been the recipient of more than a few kicks, backhands and punches. If I don't wake, he will gently rub my arm and say, "it's okay, it's okay." We laugh about my little episode and go back to sleep.
 
There was one occasion,however, that did disturb me. My granddaughter K was curled up next to me when I let loose with a right hook that connected with her head. She didn't even wake up so perhaps it wasn't the mighty blow that I thought it was, but it did wake me and I felt just terrible.
 
Then last week I was dreaming that a strange man grabbed my right cheek and was pinching and twisting it with his fingers! I know it sounds odd and there is no explaining it but dreams don't have to make sense. Anyway, the pinching really hurt and I fought back only to wake myself up. I was on my left side, my left arm crossed over my chest with my fingernails dug into my right cheek. Lordy, I broke the skin and I still have the marks on my cheek.
 
This dreaming is getting dangerous! I need some dream intervention. I have met the enemy and it is ME!