Skip to main content

Feather-brained with a nearly empty nest

When my nest was full and a flurry of near-constant activity, I had it together. I could nearly effortlessly balance the demands of being an overly-involved mother of three,supportive spouse, community volunteer, freelance writer and social butterfly. I was often busy  but I felt focused. I could handle the demands of many; many people and many organizations. If someone needed a volunteer - I was their woman. And I would get the job done. If the kids needed a chaperon for a field trip they'd often volunteer me without asking knowing that I'd do it.

Now the nest is emptying, with only one not-so-little Piggins at home. And she is rarely in the nest, busy with the life of a high-school senior. That's the way it should be, I know, yet it seems so strange. 

I know that a lot of my fellow moms know about which I write. Can I get an Amen?!

I've been anticipating these days. But it doesn't mean I prepared for them. When I was expecting Michael, I read every book or magazine I could get my chubby pregnant hands on - to be prepared. While expecting Matthew, I did some speed-reading of all those tomes and added books or articles about the arrival of number 2. And while expecting Delaney, I shopped for baby items that were not blue and may have by then had access to some articles on iVillage.com since like Delaney, the Internet was in its infancy. While all my preparation didn't fully prepare me, I feel completely ill-prepared for this next stage of my life.

Because not only is the nest emptying, but I feel that a few of my brain cells have also flown the coop. My focus isn't as sharp and while that could be because I'm still trying to figure out what is next, it's a foreign experience for me. I'm muddling through and seemingly waiting for the next big thing. I pray daily that God will show me - and then I wonder, did He show me the way and I miss the sign. I pray that it will be as clear as the ones He gave to Moses or Mary, because I might be a little slow on the uptake. (A friend reminded me however that if God is giving you a sign, there will be no mistaking it.)

I have in earnest been writing my book and have four chapters done and the fifth in draft stages and when I sit down to write, I feel completely directed. So maybe that's it. I could become the oldest first-time novelist in history! Perhaps that sense of 'rightness' I feel when writing is the sign. Like I said, 'slow on the uptake'.

I believe after 23 years of focus on others, mostly my wonderful children and hubby, it's a challenge to move that focus onto something else - especially me!! If anyone has suggestions, I am sure open to them!

Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Old? Infirm?

A friend sent this article to me today: Are you Old? Infirm? I can relate. Though  I'm not old - despite what the three-year-olds in my Sunday school class say. And I am not infirm - and I'll wack over the head with my cane anyone, repeat anyone , that would call me that. I resemble Nancy in the article. She calls herself crippled. And Mr. Bruni wrote, " I confessed that I cringed whenever she called herself “crippled,” which she does, because she values directness and has a streak of mischief in her." I prefer the term 'gimp' and have also had others cringe when I say that. I like the term they arrived at "limited" but it's not perfect - maybe just a little more politically correct. I have felt that diminishment when in my wheelchair. But being a tad feisty and Irish, I fight that with every ounce of my being. My personality has always been a little on the large side and not very quiet or shy, so I make it a challenge to 'be see...

Treatment begins

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Today is the day I begin, at last, treatment. Today is the day I begin to kick cancer's ass. Today is the day I start infusing ugly, nasty, side-affect laden, toxic chemicals for the greater good. Today is a day that I wish I could rewrite the script for completely deleting the part requiring me to need breast cancer chemo. And yet, here it is and at 1:15 EST I will be at the Cancer & Hematology Center in Holland. It's where I will be a lot for the next five months. It's where I will, I'm sure (and surety is something I have less of these days as I know not how I will respond to chemo), create new friendships and forge bonds with people that I am currently unfamiliar. Because that's who I am; a lover of people and a woman that wants to know and love on all the people she comes to meet.  I don't know why I have breast cancer but someday I will ask God (along with a whole bunch of other questions!). I do b...

holding on for dear life

  Tuesday was cool, the morning especially. And while working at the Book Nook I saw people dressed for two seasons -summer and fall. Lots of plaids, flannel and boots or booties worn by customers that I assumed were anxious for fall. Not me. I'm holding on to summer for dear life. I wore a sleeveless dress, sandals and a cotton sweater. I mean here in Michigan we will be donning those fall duds and not showing skin again for at least eight months. And while I'm not good at a math, I know that eight months is most of the year. According to my calculator that's 66 percent of the year (66.666667 to be exact - my math 094 professor at MSU would be impressed that I knew that if I'd done it myself. But I'm smart enough to use a calculator to come up with that - like I used to tell her every class "we don't need to know how to do that, we can just use a calculator". Pretty sure I wasn't her favorite).  Boy did I digress with that walk down memory lane. A...