nesting

For a few months now, I have been in a serious nesting and domestic mood (and no...I am NOT pregnant). I am not sure what the impetus for this has been and I have only been minimally acting on it, due to time and energy constraints. I have found that it is feeding into my levels of energy as well as my level of contentment, so I am going to have to make time to indulge it more.

This basic instinct and longing has been fueled by hours of time spent looking at food porn and craft and domestic sites. Most of my actions to satisfy this urge have been of a culinary nature. I do love to cook. I find that I have also been bitten by the gardening and quilting bug. My desire to dig in the dirt has been curtailed by too much rain and a lack of funds to buy seedlings and gardening supplies. I am sure it will by indulged, but on a scaled back endeavor from that of my grandiose imagination.

The quilting projects are quite another thing. What you all don't know is that I have a serious fabric fetish. Over the years, I have squirreled away an obscene amount of material, everything from yards of fabric, to fat quarters, to scraps. Many years ago, I started a Cathedral Window Quilt, which is very work intensive and a bit self-indulgent. The origin of that project has been laying dormant in my sewing box, patiently waiting for my return. My thought at this point is to make it into a lap size quilt for my granddaughter. Which means the completion of two other small quilts will be required (as to not leave out my two grandsons).

I learned to quilt from my grandmother, who mostly did applique. I have very fond memories of cutting, pinning and sewing small shapes of fabric to make beautiful pieces of art. Though my leaning has been more towards patchwork. Piecing together little scraps, that might have been otherwise discarded, in order to give them a new purpose and life. The combinations of colors and patterns seem to indulge my eclectic tastes.

Indulging in these domestic urges lately is my bliss. It also makes me feel very connected to the important and influential women in my past. I wonder if they knew how often my thoughts would turn to them in warm remembrances?

Mothers and Sons

I have been reflecting about the changes in my relationship with my sons. As we go through different stages in our lives, the parent/child relationship transitions and evolves. For almost all of my boys lives, I was a single parent. Their fathers were not ever very involved (one of them marginally and the other not at all). I would like to say that I was a model parent, a super-mom, but that would be lying. I made more than my share of mistakes, but I did try to be a constant and stable presence in their lives. I functioned as both mother and father. I made sure they had male role models and mentors. I was involved in their activities, we did family things constantly, I encouraged them and stood up for them. We had wonderful times and we had turbulent times. I always did the best that I could at the time.

Single parents get a bad rap. Whether someone makes a choice to parent on their own, or they are thrown into that role unexpectedly, it is not easy to fill two pairs of shoes. Parents may be pros at playing the guilt card, but parenting comes with its own heaping of guilt. It is filled with what if's and second guesses. As a single mother, I shouldered plenty of guilt. Guilt over their fathers (if I had chosen differently, they might have been present), guilt over working too much, guilt over being too strict or too lenient. My shoulders sagged from the guilt that I carried. I finally reached a point where enough was enough. I couldn't go back and change things, I didn't choose the circumstances, all I could do was accept and move on.

I always thought that as the boys grew up and pulled away, I would be the one to have trouble letting go. I will admit that the sense of responsibility for them is hard to overcome. I have always tried to be supportive and available. I now wonder if I have been too supportive and available. They are both now adults, but they don't always act like it. It is not as if they are under my roof and will not leave. My youngest son (age 21) does still live here, but he holds a job, has his own friends, and is rarely here. It just seems that when things become difficult for them, they call on me (before they have really tried to figure it out on their own). Lately, I have been telling them both just that. I have been closing that door (slowly), but I am about ready to change the figurative locks.

Don't get me wrong, I would lay down my life for my children. I would never let them do without the necessities. I don't want them to be homeless or starving, I just want them to be adults. Normally, my sons are loving, considerate and helpful. I do at times ask them to do things for me and they usually comply. There are times though, that they ask me for things (maybe money, my time, a task) which they know will require a sacrifice for me. I used to do everything within my power to fill the request. Lately, the answer has been no, more than it has been yes. I am not sure why they think that I (in my 50's) am more capable of doing certain things than they (in their 20's) are.

I am wondering if we all tend to take our parents for granted. I suppose that it depends greatly on the relationship that we had/have with them. I know I took my parents for granted at times, but I don't really remember a request I made of them (as an adult) that required a major sacrifice on their parts. In fact, my mother has never had a problem saying no, even when it didn't require a sacrifice. I wish saying no, came a little more easy (as it has always seemed to from their fathers). Well, practice makes perfect and I'm getting more and more practice. At least I manage to give a yes or a no with no strings attached to it. I do fight the urge to manipulate the situation into something more acceptable to me, because that that would benefit no one in the long run. I do wonder if this all is as difficult for them as it is for me?



I used to think this was a song about a couple, but maybe it is about a far too dependent child. God...I hope that I'm dead by the time they're 64!

Celebrations

This weekend was celebratory in nature. I am celebrating the fact that I made it through the week. My handyman finished most of the work he was hired to do. I now have both toilets working as they should, all of my kitchen cabinets are now hung, my walls are patched and are ready for me to paint them, and a non-working water softener is out of my laundry room (giving me more room in there). My house is still not really clean, but I have been working on it and it is much more orderly. My son begins his college classes on Monday, all of the financial aid papers are completed and filed. I have gotten some rest and had some marvelous party and family time at my niece's wedding.

Yesterday, my niece got married. Her mother is my sister that I do not always get along with. My niece has always been a bit spoiled and self-centered. My mother and my other sister were coming into town for the wedding. I was looking forward to seeing them, but not really anticipating the wedding itself. Now that it is over, I must admit, I had a lovely time. The mother-of-the-bride was very stressed (which usually leads to misunderstandings and arguments). Instead of problems arising, she came to my other sister and myself and asked for our help with things, which we gladly gave. The time we spent, all pulling together and helping, was a bit of a bonding moment for us. We worked together and joked and got a lot done. My niece was absolutely beautiful, she and her fiance planned a touching ceremony and fun reception. She personified grace and hospitality.

The reception was a wonderful party. The bride and groom used a video game theme and also made their own play list for music. It was fun and creative. My youngest son brought his girlfriend. They have been together for over a year, but this was her first exposure to the entire family. We all talked, ate, drank and danced. We enjoyed each other's company and laughed over family jokes. The evening gave me new appreciation for my family. It also allowed me to let my hair down. I danced with my son, my sister, and my nephew's wife (slow and fast respectively) and also sang karaoke at the table (into a beer bottle microphone), and no we weren't drunk, just having a good time. I often forget how much fun it can be to hang out with my family, especially when we are all getting along.

As with any family, through the years we have been very close at times, but we have also had the ability to inflict the deepest hurts. I am happy to say, that when it really counts, we are there for each other. Through deaths and divorces and illnesses, we are able to put our differences aside and provide aid and comfort. We are a proud and stubborn lot, it is hard for us to ask for help, but when we do, we are family in every sense of the word.