Only Tuesday

How is it only Tuesday? Monday alone was about a week long.

Our weekend flew by. We were busy. On Saturday, we visited with my older stepdaughter and her fiancé, and then on Sunday, we met up with my younger stepson, his girlfriend, and his 3-year-old son. As they say, time flies when you’re having fun, and before we knew it, it was time to set the alarm for work for Monday morning.

Work has been so hectic and demanding this week that I almost cracked open my last bottle of wine (not at work, though that was certainly tempting). I’m going to unwind this evening with a rose-scented Epsom salts bath, a face mask, then pulling my fuzzy blanket out of the dryer and crashing on the couch with a book while snuggled up to my husband. I need to recharge for another crazy day tomorrow!

Memory Lane

The theme of blooming really resonates with me so strongly that I decided to update this blog to match my new blog. I have moved my blog several times but always end up coming back here, because I hate losing the history of all of my posts.

Luckily, instead of deleting my old posts here, I had just reverted all of them back to draft format. Unluckily, however, I can’t find a quick way to bulk edit them to re-publish them and still maintain the original publish date. So I get to go through about 1,400 posts, one at a time, and re-publish them, to preserve the publish date…fun! It’s going to take a while, but I’ll get there.

It’s a trip down memory lane, opening each post, revisiting words from months ago, years ago. I smile at some of them, feel sad about some of them, depending what was on my mind that day. But no matter what, I don’t want to lose these little time capsules of my days.

It’s going to take quite some time to get all set up here again, but maybe it’s a good thing I caused all this upheaval for myself. Reviewing my posts, rewinding time, and updating this blog to a theme that strikes a nerve (in a good way) might be just what I need right now.

A-Ha Moment

Recently I had an a-ha moment. It wasn’t a brand new revelation, exactly, and it was something I have touched on and mentioned before, but it was the first time that it really sank in, grabbed something deep inside, and refused to be brushed aside again.

I take care of things. I mean that in many ways.

First, I mean it in the sense that I get things done. I am very task-oriented. Let me know something needs done, and I am already formulating a plan to finish it. My husband is the same way. When we helped our older daughter move recently, he and I jumped right in, stayed in motion, never slowed down, and focused on getting the job done. The entire move was completed in less than two hours. Now, we were exhausted, sweaty, and thirsty, but the important thing to us was…we got it done!

Second, I mean it in the sense that I take care of others. I am not a coddling, baby-talking kind of caretaker. I believe in tough love when needed, and that nurturing means honesty and guiding people to take care of themselves. But I feel responsible for the ones I love and want to help them in any way I can.

I take care of my husband, my stepkids, my grandbabies. That will never change, and I don’t want it to. I love them and want to take care of them. I am not complaining or nominating myself for martyrdom. I have never thrown what I do for them into their faces, because that’s an asshole move.

But this is the realization I had recently. I had just come home for work, and my husband wasn’t home yet. The first thing I did was take care of my cat, picking him up, loving on him, getting his dinner and clean water. Then I went outside to take care of the cats who refuse to live inside: petting them, talking to them, changing their water, serving dinner.

And after that, I was strolling to the back edge of the yard to pick up the large water bowl I leave for squirrels and raccoons, getting ready to clean and refill it, when the thought hit me that I actually prioritize taking care of everything and everyone under the sun before myself. Again, not because I demand praise and want a medal for my sacrifice, but because I simply run out of energy before I get to me, and that has been happening for a long time now.

I had to laugh. I have a house full of plants and orchids that I take care of and fawn over. A yard I fuss over all the time (weeding, trimming, mulching, you know, the never-ending maintenance). A car that gets washed and detailed every week. A house that stays cleaned and organized. The neighborhood’s happiest birds, squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, and possums, thanks to multiple feeders, bird baths, and water bowls. Four amazing kids, an awesome husband, two beautiful grandkids, three brothers I adore, all of whom only need to ask, and I will be there, because I love them all and am happy they are in my life.

I wouldn’t trade any of it or take any of that off the table. What made me laugh was realizing that I have prioritized absolutely everything, including random wildlife, over taking care of me. So much of my time and effort are devoted to everything and everyone but me, and I have come to view taking time for me as as a waste of my time. I actually get irritated about doing something for myself.

I love animals, but come on…when raccoons, squirrels, and hummingbirds are tended to better than myself, maybe it’s time to reevaluate and reprioritize just a bit!

I am not dropping anyone off my list, human or animal or plant. They are all still important to me and worthy of my attention and energy. I have just finally come to the realization that hey…I am worthy of my energy and attention, too! And I need to slide myself to the top of that list sometimes, because I not only want it and deserve it, but because I honestly need it.

The Woman in the Parking Lot

This past weekend, my husband and I went to the grocery store to pick up everything we needed for grilling dinner. We were walking back to the truck, just chatting and joking around, when we heard something hit the ground. We turned around, and an elderly lady in the next row of the parking lot had fallen onto the pavement. She was struggling to lift herself up.

My husband was the first to reach her. He bent down to talk to her, check on her, then offered his arm to help her up. Another man in the parking lot ran over to help too, then an employee of the store.

The poor woman looked a little confused, maybe embarrassed, though no one laughed at her or made fun of her (heaven help them if they had, because I know my husband well enough to be certain he would make them pay for that mistake). She was dressed nicely, white pants, a pretty top, so I asked her if I could help brush off the dirt on her back from the parking lot. I talked to her as I did so, trying to put her at ease, because I imagine falling down and then being surrounded by strangers was a bit unsettling.

When I let her know I was done, she turned back around, scanned all of our faces like she was overwhelmed, then reached out to my husband and grabbed him in a tight hug. He is very tall, and she looked so small, holding onto him. He closed his arms around her until she seemed to feel safe again.

Then she turned, saw me, and pulled me into a hug, too. I don’t know why such a simple gesture got to me, but it sure did. I hugged her back and told her I hoped she was okay. She nodded against my shoulder and thanked me.

Someone who looked like the store manager came out to check on the woman, so my husband and I backed off to give them space and privacy. My husband slowed as he walked, waited until the elderly woman was seated safely in her car, and the store employees were talking with her, before he turned away. I thought it was sweet that he had to make sure she was okay before he could leave.

I thought of her as we drove home. Hitting the pavement like that couldn’t have felt good, for anyone, but especially an older person. Hell, I am in my 50s, and the thought of smacking into that pavement makes my joints cringe! I hope she is okay. She had such an innocent, beautiful face and way about her. Maybe we will run into each other again, and I can make sure she’s okay. I hope so.

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