I’m 51 and shouldn’t be too surprised – but I’m shocked! I’ve been feeling not quite myself recently – night-time sweats, tiredness, but it’s the hazy thinking that has really bothered me. Giving the shop assistant my bank card right after she has returned it to me; being given carrot cake when I’m convinced that ‘cheesecake’ came out of my mouth, but my sister assures me the words were ‘carrot cake.’
I don’t like this. I’m not ready to be a confused old lady. I need my brain. My work revolves around studying facts and drawing conclusions, but when my husband shows me an interesting I.T. feature that might help my business, I find myself muttering about ‘mental space’ and how I don’t have any. He gives me strange looks and shakes his head.
So I bought a book – ‘Menopause for Dummies’ and in the segment under Perimenopause – the pre-period – are all my symptoms. So I read about the solutions - herbal, synthetic and lifestyle – but I can’t take it all in. A mental space problem again. So I’ve made an appointment at a specialist clinic that deals with the menopause. Normally, I would study and have a plan – like when I was pregnant I knew the type of labour I preferred and the medicines I would and would not take. But this time, I haven’t the mental prowess to sort this out for myself, I need help.
Monday, 5 January 2009
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Loneliness
Okay, I've whined because my kids left home - and now I'm whining because my husband's gone. It's on business, but he's still gone. I hate being alone! In London life isn't so bad - it's spontaneous. I see friends - even acquaintances - and invites crop up. But when I come back to the village,life crawls to a standstill. I work hard at home in my small office with my laptop for company, but when it comes to 6 or 7 in the evening, I simply want to open a bottle of wine and talk about the day. I have friends in the village and love their company. But we only see each other when it is planned. There is little room for a friend dropping by to share stories of the day.
So, there it is - sorry to whine. Thankfully, my husband is home soon - and he better start taking care of his health. I won't do too well as a lonely old lady.
So, there it is - sorry to whine. Thankfully, my husband is home soon - and he better start taking care of his health. I won't do too well as a lonely old lady.
Monday, 29 September 2008
Emtpynest - Again!
This is the fifth year I have dropped one of my offspring at university – the second child and his fourth year. And it does get easier – but just a little!
That final parting, that last sight of your child as you drive away, still brings a paroxysm of sobs that push forth like dry heaves. They die quickly, and you drive out of this strange town focusing only on the miserable scowls of the residents and the streets that look threatening.
My rational side knows he is fine – he’s 21, big, smart and friendly – maybe too friendly, too open, too keen to help. But he knows this town and even sees some goodness among the unfriendly faces. “Mum, you have to look mean here – if you walk about looking happy, someone will pick on you!” These words bring me no joy. But I know it makes sense.
That final parting, that last sight of your child as you drive away, still brings a paroxysm of sobs that push forth like dry heaves. They die quickly, and you drive out of this strange town focusing only on the miserable scowls of the residents and the streets that look threatening.
My rational side knows he is fine – he’s 21, big, smart and friendly – maybe too friendly, too open, too keen to help. But he knows this town and even sees some goodness among the unfriendly faces. “Mum, you have to look mean here – if you walk about looking happy, someone will pick on you!” These words bring me no joy. But I know it makes sense.
Thursday, 18 September 2008
Getting Mad at Sarah Palin
Firstly, I should say I am a feminist – I believe women are as intelligent and able as men. But, in marriage, one partner has to put the children ahead of their career - and it can be the father or the mother. You get one shot at raising children, and they have to feel that they are worth more than a parent’s occasional glance.
Sarah Palin, despite her Christian rhetoric concerning family sanctity, has put her career first. When she was first introduced as the Vice-Presidential candidate by John McCain and her family trooped onto the stage, I saw Palin’s oldest daughter carrying the baby and thought, “That woman is using her daughter as a babysitter.” But it was worse. The girl was hiding her own fledgling motherhood!
If Chelsea Clinton had fallen pregnant at 17, the Republican Right would have criticised Hilary as neglectful and too career orientated. But Sarah Palin is, apparently, a heroic mother who supports her daughter’s decision to have the child and marry.
But where was Sarah Palin when her teenage daughter needed to talk about boys, petting, going ‘too far’, contraception, and all those other topics that create anguish in teenagers? It is not good enough to say she is a great mother and career woman simply because she holds high office and has a large family. Being a good mother means you are there for your children – especially those times when they need to talk.
My husband travelled a lot with work – not unlike Todd Palin, an oil-worker frequently away from home – and we knew the family would suffer if we both worked long hours. As a result, I freelanced from home when my children were young. The boys would come in from school, climb the stairs to my office and tell me about their day. Then, having poured it out, they could relax, eat something hearty and feel all was well with the world. One day my son came home with a long involved story about who said what to whom, and who had fallen out and taken sides. It was the usual teen drama. I was working on an involved story and lost patience with the detail.
“Scott, I’m working!”
He recoiled, as though I had slapped him. “But, Mom, this is important.” He was clearly upset by what had happened that day, and I knew I had to take my head out of work and listen to what was, to him, a very important story.
As a state governor, and in other high-ranking roles, you can’t always stop and listen to your children. People and departments need you to read, respond, meet and decide on far-reaching topics that matter to tax payers.
Feminism has come a long way since the sixties and seventies rhetoric about “having it all.” What most of us learn is that we can’t. Someone, husband or wife, has to put children first.
Sarah Palin, despite her Christian rhetoric concerning family sanctity, has put her career first. When she was first introduced as the Vice-Presidential candidate by John McCain and her family trooped onto the stage, I saw Palin’s oldest daughter carrying the baby and thought, “That woman is using her daughter as a babysitter.” But it was worse. The girl was hiding her own fledgling motherhood!
If Chelsea Clinton had fallen pregnant at 17, the Republican Right would have criticised Hilary as neglectful and too career orientated. But Sarah Palin is, apparently, a heroic mother who supports her daughter’s decision to have the child and marry.
But where was Sarah Palin when her teenage daughter needed to talk about boys, petting, going ‘too far’, contraception, and all those other topics that create anguish in teenagers? It is not good enough to say she is a great mother and career woman simply because she holds high office and has a large family. Being a good mother means you are there for your children – especially those times when they need to talk.
My husband travelled a lot with work – not unlike Todd Palin, an oil-worker frequently away from home – and we knew the family would suffer if we both worked long hours. As a result, I freelanced from home when my children were young. The boys would come in from school, climb the stairs to my office and tell me about their day. Then, having poured it out, they could relax, eat something hearty and feel all was well with the world. One day my son came home with a long involved story about who said what to whom, and who had fallen out and taken sides. It was the usual teen drama. I was working on an involved story and lost patience with the detail.
“Scott, I’m working!”
He recoiled, as though I had slapped him. “But, Mom, this is important.” He was clearly upset by what had happened that day, and I knew I had to take my head out of work and listen to what was, to him, a very important story.
As a state governor, and in other high-ranking roles, you can’t always stop and listen to your children. People and departments need you to read, respond, meet and decide on far-reaching topics that matter to tax payers.
Feminism has come a long way since the sixties and seventies rhetoric about “having it all.” What most of us learn is that we can’t. Someone, husband or wife, has to put children first.
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Anorexia
I have gained 16 pounds over the last few years, and for an ex-anorexic, that's too huge too contemplate. It's crept up over the last few years, depressing me every time I stepped on the scales. I've cried and exercised fearing I was on my way to hefty. I know it's my age - pre-menopausal - but that doesn't help. As a teen I was anorexic - a proud 96 pounds and believing that if I ever reached 100 pounds I'd be on my way to fat. I matured in my 20s and my weight settled at around 110 pounds - with this I was happy. But now at 126 pounds - 57 kilos - I feel that I should head for weight watchers.
So I was pleased when an old friend told me I looked better now than when he first met me 10 years ago. I told my husband and he grew exasperated, reminding me that he has been telling me this every time I cried about my weight. He pointed out all our female friends who were too thin and how it aged them. I had to agree with him.
So, it's no more weight scales for me - as long as the clothes fit, I'll be more content in this plumper frame.
So I was pleased when an old friend told me I looked better now than when he first met me 10 years ago. I told my husband and he grew exasperated, reminding me that he has been telling me this every time I cried about my weight. He pointed out all our female friends who were too thin and how it aged them. I had to agree with him.
So, it's no more weight scales for me - as long as the clothes fit, I'll be more content in this plumper frame.
Parties!
I love parties - I've made my boys promise that, when I am old, they should only put me in an old folks home that has music and dancing - and that they should try and make sure some of my friends are there.
This weekend it's our 25th wedding anniversary and we're having two parties - one at home for our village friends; the next day we decamp to london for more champagne with London friends. Recovery will take a while but we're too young to worry about that. Besides, you have to celebrate everything in life. When turning 50, some friends decided to do it quietly with a little dinner at home - not me! Three parties and they were all great fun.
Laughing with family and friends is one of the true pleasures in life. I love those little epiphany moments when you feel such joy that life makes sense - does anyone know what I mean?
This weekend it's our 25th wedding anniversary and we're having two parties - one at home for our village friends; the next day we decamp to london for more champagne with London friends. Recovery will take a while but we're too young to worry about that. Besides, you have to celebrate everything in life. When turning 50, some friends decided to do it quietly with a little dinner at home - not me! Three parties and they were all great fun.
Laughing with family and friends is one of the true pleasures in life. I love those little epiphany moments when you feel such joy that life makes sense - does anyone know what I mean?
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
John Lewis
Where in the world is John Lewis?
He was the best man at our wedding 25 years ago, and we haven't seen him since.
This isn't as strange as it sounds. We were all working in Ruweis, Abu Dhabi, and life was easy going. Finely-orchestrated plans were not part of our lifestyle. We arrived in Glasgow, Scotland, four days before the big event and John flew in the night before. It was all great fun - the registry office and then a party with my family, whisky, dancing, but with the added bonus of two foreigners - Doyle, American, and John, English. My uncles made them wear kilts at the reception; and my aunts encouraged them to dance, hiking their kilts high as the moved and giving my aunties a thrill.
But we'd love to know what happened to John Lewis, and I'd like to think he occasionally wonders what happened to us. He came from Leeds, worked with CBI (Chicago Bridge and Iron) in Ruweis, Abu Dhabi, in 1983, and is probably in his early fifties by now.
Anyone out there who knows?
He was the best man at our wedding 25 years ago, and we haven't seen him since.
This isn't as strange as it sounds. We were all working in Ruweis, Abu Dhabi, and life was easy going. Finely-orchestrated plans were not part of our lifestyle. We arrived in Glasgow, Scotland, four days before the big event and John flew in the night before. It was all great fun - the registry office and then a party with my family, whisky, dancing, but with the added bonus of two foreigners - Doyle, American, and John, English. My uncles made them wear kilts at the reception; and my aunts encouraged them to dance, hiking their kilts high as the moved and giving my aunties a thrill.
But we'd love to know what happened to John Lewis, and I'd like to think he occasionally wonders what happened to us. He came from Leeds, worked with CBI (Chicago Bridge and Iron) in Ruweis, Abu Dhabi, in 1983, and is probably in his early fifties by now.
Anyone out there who knows?
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