Musings From The Second Half of Life

What a day it was! I am going to let a few photos tell the story. There will be more later.

I have been thinking the past few days about how much my life is going to change over the next few weeks. With the last one getting married one week from today, there is going to be adjustment at every turn for a while. I am not morose about it, nor am I celebrating exactly.

I suspect there will be fewer phone calls during the day. No one to be asking, “What is for dinner?” “Can you come by and pick up the dog?” “Are you going to walk him tonight?” “Did you get so in so done on the wedding to do list?” “Can I borrow your…” (Well, that one may still occur.) I suspect there will be less commentary on my dinner choices, schedule and clothing choices. I depend on the clothing advice. That will be a huge loss right there. There will also be one less person to consider on a daily basis: One less plate at the table, one less pair of shoes to step over, one less person working on laundry, one less car in the driveway.

The time has arrived where I will need to call ahead before visiting my child. I will have to fit into her schedule by appointment. After all, she will have her husband and some new responsibilities. She will need a higher level of privacy to adjust to her new life, which translates into more time alone for me.

There will be some positive changes for me. I will get another son in law. If he is as good as the first one our family is to be once again blessed beyond measure. Another positive is I won’t have to deal with the monthly mood swings that inevitably come to young women. Yes! I won’t be her primary problem solver. I understand the importance of them working through problems together. It is not for me to rescue. All I need to say is “I am so sorry.” That is somewhat liberating and very healthy for all concerned as I think about it.

I will be in total control of my time for the first time in 25 years, the sum total time I have been raising children. I can take a walk at night if I want to or I can stay at home without worrying that a dog will soil the carpet based on my decision. Yes, the dog goes with the dame. I can go to bed early on the weekend if I wish without concern over my little chickies all being safe at home nestled in their beds. My role as teacher, disciplinarian and voice of conscience will take a back seat only to be made available if asked. Life is now the teacher and hopefully, God will be their guide.

I will have more money, more privacy and added free time.

I suspect there will be some hard days. I have always looked forward to seeing her every night. I always look forward to our conversations, sharing secrets, laughing, complaining, planning, listening, understanding, etc. We will still have some of that as mothers and daughters do. I know this because I have another daughter that I have already shared this path with. It is not like they are dying. It is just that marriage changes the dynamic.

I will miss preparing certain meals all the while anticipating how surprised and happy she will be when she finds out. I will miss waking her up on her birthdays and Christmas mornings. I will miss seeing her on every holiday. I will miss having her make phone calls for me and taking care of things I don’t like to do. I will miss her guaranteed comfort when I have had a bad day and vice versa.

That last paragraph fills my eyes with tears. I think for now I am going to hold onto that more money, privacy and free time part. Ah yes, a chapter is ending.

36 days to go and I am still not logistically ready for the big day, but I have learned some things after planning two weddings. (Well, make that 3 since I planned my own nearly 29 years ago.)

1. I have learned that no two brides are alike. The closer in age they are the more different they tend to be. Celebrate that fact!
2. Brides ask your opinion, but they will generally do what they want. That is a good thing. The day belongs to them.
3. Grooms who say they have no opinion are lying. It IS sweet for them to realize that she needs to be the queen that day. While they will want her to always be their queen, an occasional opinion is good, but never set their opinion in stone.
4. Including a groom’s mom in planning is a kind thing to do. After all, it is her child’s wedding too. However, she needs to remember #2.
5. It isn’t all about the ceremony and reception. The ceremony will be over in 20 to 30 minutes and the reception a few hours more. The planning can takes months. Therefore, recognize that the planning process is where a great portion of the memory making takes place. It is important to relax and enjoy that part of the journey too.
6. One of the most precious times in parenting is listening to your daughter’s share her dreams of her special day.
7. Let her dream and fulfill as many of her dreams as you can.
8. Accept with grace and dignity that you cannot fulfill every whim. Don’t feel guilty if you have to say no sometimes.
9. Construct a reasonable budget in the beginning. Double it. Then, stick to it. When you put the word “wedding” in front of anything the price goes way up. The reason is the bride and/or mother of the bride can be very hard to work with. Vendors want it to be worth their time to put up with the stress than can be created, plus this is their livelihood. Check out your vendors well before signing a contract, then get out of the way and let them do their job. If you respect your vendors, you will get good service.
10. It is okay to let your friends and family help. Be grateful.
11. As the date gets closer, the bride WILL BE stressed. Do what you can to reduce it, but don’t expect it to dissipate totally. Carry a pocket full of “passes” the final weeks. In other words, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.”
12. Realize it is okay to break a few rules. In fact, breaking a few norms are just the things that will make her event unique.
13. She is not a spoiled brat. Every woman should have one day in her life where she gets to call all of the shots.
14. The Mother of the Bride needs to get out of the way…all of the time.
15. Cry if you want to.
16. Be thankful at all times.
17. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Something WILL go wrong on the wedding day.
18. Keep a sense of humor.
19. Take a sewing kit, extra make up and duct tape to the event site on the day of the wedding. Don’t ask, just do it.
20. Don’t cut corners on photography. When it is over, the food, beverages, flowers, music and everything else are mere memories. If you don’t have it in pictures, you have nothing tangible left to recall the precious, funny, ridiculous and important milestone that will impact your child forever.

Enjoying the journey…

My daughter closed on her first house last week. She went through a few days of thinking that getting a loan was a cinch. This was followed by a realization that things are not always as easy as they seem. Rapidly, she was pre-approved, turned down, reconsidered and after a roller coast ride, approved. The house is cute. It is on a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood that is 15 to 20 years old. Many original homeowners are still there having raised their families all in one place. Who does that anymore? She is so excited. Every evening after work, a load of household goods in the vehicle and someone who “wants to see” where she will be living makes the 9 mile journey. She is anxious to put her hand print on it. Paint colors are this week’s topic of discussion.

Call it nostalgic, but I can’t help but recall the first house we bought about 26 or 27 years ago. The exterior was made of stone, granite rocks from foundation to roof line. It had five rooms and one tiny bathroom. It was built in the early 1950s and must have had the original floor furnace. It was heated by a big tank that sat in our back yard filled with an annual supply of fuel oil. The first year was the coldest winter in 20 years and we were otherwise dirt poor. Every dime we had owned went into the purchase and every month the $306 payment. We kept the thermostat right at 60 degrees. We owned a combination of 14 quilts and blankets. We slept that winter on a hand me down sofa bed in front of the fireplace each night. The fireplace was beautiful, also stone. It was that cold winter that I drank my first coffee.

I cannot recall one meal we had in that house. I cannot recall sleeping in the bedroom in that house. I can see the rooms though. The kitchen was yellow and the bedroom a light almost white blue. We had a garden in the backyard and a storage building that was filled with cans of peanut oil from the previous owner. Our neighbor loaned us his lawn mower each week and often reminded us about weeding the flower beds. He was a nice elderly guy who knew we needed a little direction. How odd that I remember those things and can’t remember sleeping in the bedroom!

Often as we lay snuggled under 75 pounds of blankets, I remember my husband saying “we will never have a fire place more beautiful.” He was right. The stone fireplace went the width of the room. The hearth was knee high and was perfect for a cushion and a good book. On the other hand, in the summer, the fireplace was home to birds nesting. That part wasn’t so great. We had one car, a VW and carpooled together into town to work that year. Eventually, we got a motorcycle and sometimes road that together. The 15 months we owned that house were among our best. It was small, but it belonged to us. It was affirmation of our coming of age. We were adults with adult responsibility. We had a lifetime of possibilities that lay out in front of us. We had the confidence to do it all and the wisdom and finance resources to do little of it. At the time, we knew we were young and we knew we had to be really careful to make ends meet. We pulled together and made a life together. I am so glad it was like that.

The circle of life continues….

It was about 9:00. The morning was beautiful. I was in the bank parking lot exiting my car when I saw them smash into each other. Metal, glass and a 5 year old went flying through the air. It was one of those surreal moments where I was simultaneously asking myself, “Is this really happening?” It was in slow motion, but so fast at the same time. Somehow I was in the middle of the intersection trying to help get people out of cars when I saw her little still body; Crumpled, broken and under a car. Two men joined me, but they were as stunned as I was. I called 9-1-1 and it seemed like fire trucks, EMT responders and police were there instantly. Onlookers had gathered on all four corners of the roadway. I look around and a couple of men are taking pictures. A policeman starts asking me questions. Were you in one of the vehicles? No. Do you know any of these people? No. Did you see it happen? Yes. I need to get a statement from you. I think I am going to be sick. I sit down on the curb. I phone my office hoping this will stabilize my digestive imbalance. It doesn’t. I phone my daughter wanting to connect to my life. I feel like I am in a twilight zone. They place the board on the ground and slide it beneath her. It takes several minutes to get her out from under the car. The policemen and other heroes have lifted the car with their bare hands. A few more minutes pass and a helicopter is landing. A helicopter is landing in the middle of the street. More questions. “Thank you for staying.”

45 minutes later there is no sign of an accident. All responders are gone. The debris has been swept away. The gawking bystanders are gone. People are driving through the intersection unaware of the trauma that has just occurred in that place. I am back in my car just sitting there. The noise is gone. Only the shock remains.

In my head, I keep hearing echoes of “a car bomb went off today…”