Fifteen years ago, I never expressed my thoughts, keeping quiet about things, accepting the status-quo and concerned with the feelings of others overall. I’m still nice to others, but I've changed. The pollyanna factor has really declined. Nowadays, if you ask me a question or seek my opinion, I give an honest answer. No more fluffy, cotton candy, buffer-your fragile feelings replies. It’s time to grow-up, woman-up, deal with life, get a life and learn to treat others with respect. Guess what? That’s always been my advice to anyone and everyone else! Gotta tell you, I’m really liking the 50 year-old me.
A friend recently contacted me and asked why I left her home during a celebration where there was not a spare inch to stand or sit. I was clearly in the way and uncomfortable about it, while knocking into another person every 30 seconds. I made a decision…to go straight to my car and drive home. I never heard a word from the host, and didn't expect to, actually didn't expect to be missed. Then yesterday, my cell phone vibrated in the middle of my weekly library visit. I did not recognize the caller. This time, I didn’t respond the old-me-way by running outside to answer. I hit the “ignore” button. It’s not an emergency, I’ll get back to them.
Safely back in the privacy of my car, I returned the call to the unknown party. Surprise, it was the host from the celebration. “What’s up?” I asked. She wanted to know why I seemed so “mad” (her words not mine) during the party and then left. Mad? Mad? Isn’t that some kind of animal emotion? Human beings become angry when agitated, and I wasn’t even close. The incorrect word choice “mad” merely underscored my host's incorrect perception of the situation and choice of vocabulary. I have to admit, I ALMOST slipped back into the old make-an-excuse person, but I quickly did a 360 degree turn back to 50-year-old me. “I wasn’t mad.” I replied, “I was uncomfortable. There was not a spare inch in which to sit or stand, and I felt like I was in everyone’s way. I attended by completing the trifecta of any bridal shower. I hugged and kissed the bride-to-be, presented my gift, stayed and hour and a half and split, and in quite pleasant manner, so not to disrupt the joyful day. Oh and FYI - I don’t get angry or upset very easily, and certainly not to cause any drama EVER.”
Honest expression behind me, WOW, I was at peace. This IS the new me. You know, Jerry Seinfeld used to have a bit he did onstage about old people just backing their car out of the driveway without looking backward to check for safety, “I’m old and I’m backing out.” Very humorous, well, I’m not QUITE that old yet, but I’m on track for a fifty-something and that's life! It's funny -- I've paid my dues, and nowadays I'm totally honest take me or leave me. Honest life, honest opinions, honest existence. Why wasn’t I this way at thirty-something? Guess it takes time. Look out, I'm just coming at you life, the true me. Get ready!
Another friend tells me that this is my signature mantra, so I'll share it with you, "I'm just tossing this out for your consideration." and I would like to add, "Keeping you posted!"
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The Sandwich Generation?
A friend e-mails me:
“Speaking of chores, I think we are the sandwich generation regarding chores. My mother never had any because she had me! My kids have me! Where did I go wrong??”
Got a minute? Step into my office... “Sandwich Generation” is a term usually applied to folks who are responsible for the care of both their children and parents at the same time. Your creative use of the term regarding family chores, is very interesting and one to which I can relate without elaboration. (Note: Excluding my older daughters who WILL read this, but were guilty on some counts as youngsters.)
Here’s where I assess that we went wrong:
• Simple admission of the problem itself. Never complain openly regarding this dilemma unless, as you did, it is to another mom/woman. Men, primarily husbands/fathers, will initially appear interested in an open dialogue on this topic; be prepared, they will turn on a dime in order to get back to their TV show or whatever they were doing prior to your little chat. The hubby/father trump card to your challenge will be similar to my experience: “Well, how do you think it got that way and what are you going to do to change it?” Game, set, match. OUCH!
• Non-implementation of the “Is Your Room Clean?” defense before allowing a child ANYTHING. (Note: I learned to employ this defense on child #3, but admit it was way too late. Works like an absolute charm.)
• We didn’t learn from our mothers! Double-duh! Their ability to employ daughters to cook, fold clothes, take care of younger siblings, etc. was to beyond stellar. We’re dunces for failing in this department.
My final advice, friend, is there’s still time for you, save yourself. Your children are still young! Hike you pantyhose high, take a deep breath and dig in, you CAN do it. You CAN win. Be the boss. It might require baby steps, but get those babies in line. And while you’re at it, get hubby in line too! I have faith in you! Keep me posted.
“Speaking of chores, I think we are the sandwich generation regarding chores. My mother never had any because she had me! My kids have me! Where did I go wrong??”
Got a minute? Step into my office... “Sandwich Generation” is a term usually applied to folks who are responsible for the care of both their children and parents at the same time. Your creative use of the term regarding family chores, is very interesting and one to which I can relate without elaboration. (Note: Excluding my older daughters who WILL read this, but were guilty on some counts as youngsters.)
Here’s where I assess that we went wrong:
• Simple admission of the problem itself. Never complain openly regarding this dilemma unless, as you did, it is to another mom/woman. Men, primarily husbands/fathers, will initially appear interested in an open dialogue on this topic; be prepared, they will turn on a dime in order to get back to their TV show or whatever they were doing prior to your little chat. The hubby/father trump card to your challenge will be similar to my experience: “Well, how do you think it got that way and what are you going to do to change it?” Game, set, match. OUCH!
• Non-implementation of the “Is Your Room Clean?” defense before allowing a child ANYTHING. (Note: I learned to employ this defense on child #3, but admit it was way too late. Works like an absolute charm.)
• We didn’t learn from our mothers! Double-duh! Their ability to employ daughters to cook, fold clothes, take care of younger siblings, etc. was to beyond stellar. We’re dunces for failing in this department.
My final advice, friend, is there’s still time for you, save yourself. Your children are still young! Hike you pantyhose high, take a deep breath and dig in, you CAN do it. You CAN win. Be the boss. It might require baby steps, but get those babies in line. And while you’re at it, get hubby in line too! I have faith in you! Keep me posted.
Monday, April 19, 2010
I Graduate High School on June 5, 2010.....Diploma please!
On Saturday, June 5, 2010, at 11:00 a.m., our youngest daughter will graduate from high school, thus ending the long and winding road of all three daughters’ illustrious 12 year high school span, as well as my own starring role as high school mom. For many of those years, I was the editor-in-chief of the school newsletter, trip chaperone, band booster, PTSA member, general volunteer, taxi cab, sports mom and fan, last-minute all-around baker and team dinner chef. Favorite team dinner entrée: hands down, Taco Chicken! I anticipate what lies ahead with both excitement and melancholy emotions.
With youngest attending university next fall, and middle child preparing to graduate in December, I have identified specific calendar opportunities for hubby and me to reacquaint ourselves with two old
friends – Mr. Leisure Activities and Mrs. Travel. Let me not overstate our position -- having 2 children in college is our primary financial priority, possibly limiting available funding for visiting Mr. Leisure and Mrs. Travel. Nevertheless, always the optimist, I see possibilities in ANY situation.
Realistically considering our financial priorities: TWO college educations, FOUR automobiles, THREE cell phones and a partridge in a pear tree; perhaps a day trip to Atlantic City in December might be along the lines of what the budget can handle. Still, I’m joyously reveling (imagine cartwheels) in the knowledge that there will be NO two-week August sports pre-season, NO last-minute sports physical, NO blackout dates for any plans in August and September, and NO nighttime meetings. Oh, sweet freedom! Sweet joy!
Yes, your honor, I’m ready for graduation. But not before I share this final thought to my daughters: Girls, I seriously had the time of my life. High school, the second, third and fourth time around presented me with so many joyful, memorable experiences, life-long friends and heartfelt laughter, I wouldn’t trade one minute. I truly thank God for the blessing to have been able to share each treasured high school day, sun-shiny or not, with each of my precious daughters.
Who knows? Maybe university life will provide a few more blogs….
With youngest attending university next fall, and middle child preparing to graduate in December, I have identified specific calendar opportunities for hubby and me to reacquaint ourselves with two old
friends – Mr. Leisure Activities and Mrs. Travel. Let me not overstate our position -- having 2 children in college is our primary financial priority, possibly limiting available funding for visiting Mr. Leisure and Mrs. Travel. Nevertheless, always the optimist, I see possibilities in ANY situation.
Realistically considering our financial priorities: TWO college educations, FOUR automobiles, THREE cell phones and a partridge in a pear tree; perhaps a day trip to Atlantic City in December might be along the lines of what the budget can handle. Still, I’m joyously reveling (imagine cartwheels) in the knowledge that there will be NO two-week August sports pre-season, NO last-minute sports physical, NO blackout dates for any plans in August and September, and NO nighttime meetings. Oh, sweet freedom! Sweet joy!
Yes, your honor, I’m ready for graduation. But not before I share this final thought to my daughters: Girls, I seriously had the time of my life. High school, the second, third and fourth time around presented me with so many joyful, memorable experiences, life-long friends and heartfelt laughter, I wouldn’t trade one minute. I truly thank God for the blessing to have been able to share each treasured high school day, sun-shiny or not, with each of my precious daughters.
Who knows? Maybe university life will provide a few more blogs….
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Wilma Flintstone or Jane Jetson?
Having no current revelations on which to blog on this week, I decided to include a column I wrote as editor of the high school newsletter. This post was written in 2003, but still applies today to moms and dads who serve as transport for their kiddies. God Bless You!
Picture the image of the future we all became familiar with when watching THE JETSONS as children. The future consisted of nothing less than space age everything! Sadly, I contend the notion has become nothing more than a tease. Although mornings greet many of us with the opportunity to engage in a George Jetson-like walk on treadmills and sidewalks across the county, I have finally accepted a very stark reality:
My children will never travel to school or anywhere else via jet-pack just like Elroy and Judy Jetson! Their only means of travel is mom-taxi.
One may argue that microwaving food is relatively Jetson-esque, as well as the use of cell phones, etc. Generally speaking, our generation has made many space age advancements. However, I argue that the task of driving back and forth to school two, three, (dare I say four?) times a day, leaves me feeling more like Wilma Flintstone than Jane Jetson. As the primary driving parent of a non-driving high school student, I clearly remember the sweet experience of ride freedom, and daydream of innovative ways of improvement. Linking necessity as the true mother of all invention and being a mother myself, I share my top three solutions:
• Air-chute transport: Just as we send checks and money in an air-chute to the drive-in bank teller, students could be airlifted to school via a giant plastic cylinder travelling through tunnels. Less expensive than a car, this solution requires no insurance, gas or license.
• Star-Trek transport: Similar to Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock and the gang, our beloved offspring would be transported to school via the use of affordable in-home transporters. Students would be physically placed directly in front of his/her locker with plenty of time to prepare for the day. This concept works well with items students leave behind as well (i.e., lunches, money, homework, sports gear, etc.)
• Career Change: Parent(s) could volunteer to quit their job and become full-time bus driver(s), continually looping a pre-designated course for approximately 10 hours daily. This would be a paid position including salary, medical benefits and yearly vacations to any destination. Ultimately, the goal is to keep our drivers very happy until our children can drive for themselves. Until a real solution is found, or our students become drivers, I'll see you on the road. Keep on driving -- and daydreaming (it helps. . .)
Picture the image of the future we all became familiar with when watching THE JETSONS as children. The future consisted of nothing less than space age everything! Sadly, I contend the notion has become nothing more than a tease. Although mornings greet many of us with the opportunity to engage in a George Jetson-like walk on treadmills and sidewalks across the county, I have finally accepted a very stark reality:
My children will never travel to school or anywhere else via jet-pack just like Elroy and Judy Jetson! Their only means of travel is mom-taxi.
One may argue that microwaving food is relatively Jetson-esque, as well as the use of cell phones, etc. Generally speaking, our generation has made many space age advancements. However, I argue that the task of driving back and forth to school two, three, (dare I say four?) times a day, leaves me feeling more like Wilma Flintstone than Jane Jetson. As the primary driving parent of a non-driving high school student, I clearly remember the sweet experience of ride freedom, and daydream of innovative ways of improvement. Linking necessity as the true mother of all invention and being a mother myself, I share my top three solutions:
• Air-chute transport: Just as we send checks and money in an air-chute to the drive-in bank teller, students could be airlifted to school via a giant plastic cylinder travelling through tunnels. Less expensive than a car, this solution requires no insurance, gas or license.
• Star-Trek transport: Similar to Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock and the gang, our beloved offspring would be transported to school via the use of affordable in-home transporters. Students would be physically placed directly in front of his/her locker with plenty of time to prepare for the day. This concept works well with items students leave behind as well (i.e., lunches, money, homework, sports gear, etc.)
• Career Change: Parent(s) could volunteer to quit their job and become full-time bus driver(s), continually looping a pre-designated course for approximately 10 hours daily. This would be a paid position including salary, medical benefits and yearly vacations to any destination. Ultimately, the goal is to keep our drivers very happy until our children can drive for themselves. Until a real solution is found, or our students become drivers, I'll see you on the road. Keep on driving -- and daydreaming (it helps. . .)
Sunday, April 11, 2010
My "I Drive Safely" Driving Course Fiasco
If even one member of my family successfully passes an approved online driving course, the entire family is eligible for a 10% savings on their auto liability policy for three years. Sweet deal, I promptly added it to my “to do” list.
About a week ago, a flash went off in my brain -- the driving course – oh, no. I somehow recall hubby assigning the task to daughter who was now conveniently vacationing with friends on spring break. I locate the original email and realize that I had just days to complete the six hour class, pass the exam and get the certificate to my agent. Guess who’s taking the course? Later that day, I grabbed my computer and worked for about two hours refreshing my knowledge of the rules of the road.
Time Check: Happy Saturday morning, large coffee in hand, I proceed to “git ‘er done.” Let me share one of the more “handy” tidbits of knowledge acquired during my instruction:
Did you know if your vehicle stalls or you experience engine failure while on railroad tracks and a train is heading straight for your vehicle, the recommended procedure is as follows:
A) Everyone should evacuate the vehicle, run 50 feet away from the tracks, then turn 90 degrees and continue to run from the vehicle. The driving course preparers decide to illustrate the seriousness of this situation via a cartoon video with a train impacting the vehicle just moments after everyone escapes. The video concludes with the driver and passengers standing safely by as their vehicle explodes into a huge cartoon fireball. I guess they weren’t able to get any real people/actors for that dangerous scenario.
Time check: 4.5 course hours and only just more than halfway finished. Ugggg! Why is youngest daughter always away on some fabulous vacation when I need her? Following the train wreck, it’s time to take a computer break, but not before yet another revelation: Remember good old, “10 and 2” position for hands on the steering wheel? Well that’s history, baby! The new hand placement is “8 and 4”, partially due to injuries (and I’m guessing lawsuits) which have resulted to arms and hands when airbags deploy. I must’ve missed the DMV’s memo on that one. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to flash these facts on the info screen at the DMV instead of names of bail bondsmen and lawyers?
Time check: 7:45 PM – back to computer driving course. What better way to spend Saturday evening? The Final chapters consist of vehicle maintenance, road courtesy and trip planning. I want to skip these because they really have nothing to do with my driving ability, but the program won’t let me. My reasoning --
Vehicle maintenance: not my department, talk to my husband.
Road courtesy: yes, please. Thank you.
Trip planning: unless it’s on an airplane to some exotic location and they’re footing the bill, I’m not interested.
Time check: 9:15 PM – The Final Exam – 25 questions. I figure it’ll take about 20 minutes, maybe 30 if I take my time. At this very un-perfect moment, hubby who has witnessed my torture all day, enters the study chuckling aloud and asks if he can help me “cheat” on the final exam. Not being in the mood for jokes, I kick him out of the room. It’s totally “go” time.
Time check: 10 PM – Success! Final exam passed, certificate on its way, I sashay into the kitchen for my reward – A celebratory glass of wine. How was your weekend? I hope it was so much better than this!
About a week ago, a flash went off in my brain -- the driving course – oh, no. I somehow recall hubby assigning the task to daughter who was now conveniently vacationing with friends on spring break. I locate the original email and realize that I had just days to complete the six hour class, pass the exam and get the certificate to my agent. Guess who’s taking the course? Later that day, I grabbed my computer and worked for about two hours refreshing my knowledge of the rules of the road.
Time Check: Happy Saturday morning, large coffee in hand, I proceed to “git ‘er done.” Let me share one of the more “handy” tidbits of knowledge acquired during my instruction:
Did you know if your vehicle stalls or you experience engine failure while on railroad tracks and a train is heading straight for your vehicle, the recommended procedure is as follows:
A) Everyone should evacuate the vehicle, run 50 feet away from the tracks, then turn 90 degrees and continue to run from the vehicle. The driving course preparers decide to illustrate the seriousness of this situation via a cartoon video with a train impacting the vehicle just moments after everyone escapes. The video concludes with the driver and passengers standing safely by as their vehicle explodes into a huge cartoon fireball. I guess they weren’t able to get any real people/actors for that dangerous scenario.
Time check: 4.5 course hours and only just more than halfway finished. Ugggg! Why is youngest daughter always away on some fabulous vacation when I need her? Following the train wreck, it’s time to take a computer break, but not before yet another revelation: Remember good old, “10 and 2” position for hands on the steering wheel? Well that’s history, baby! The new hand placement is “8 and 4”, partially due to injuries (and I’m guessing lawsuits) which have resulted to arms and hands when airbags deploy. I must’ve missed the DMV’s memo on that one. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to flash these facts on the info screen at the DMV instead of names of bail bondsmen and lawyers?
Time check: 7:45 PM – back to computer driving course. What better way to spend Saturday evening? The Final chapters consist of vehicle maintenance, road courtesy and trip planning. I want to skip these because they really have nothing to do with my driving ability, but the program won’t let me. My reasoning --
Vehicle maintenance: not my department, talk to my husband.
Road courtesy: yes, please. Thank you.
Trip planning: unless it’s on an airplane to some exotic location and they’re footing the bill, I’m not interested.
Time check: 9:15 PM – The Final Exam – 25 questions. I figure it’ll take about 20 minutes, maybe 30 if I take my time. At this very un-perfect moment, hubby who has witnessed my torture all day, enters the study chuckling aloud and asks if he can help me “cheat” on the final exam. Not being in the mood for jokes, I kick him out of the room. It’s totally “go” time.
Time check: 10 PM – Success! Final exam passed, certificate on its way, I sashay into the kitchen for my reward – A celebratory glass of wine. How was your weekend? I hope it was so much better than this!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
The Walking Balance Class
featuring the teacher who was a former dancer
My youngest daughter plays lacrosse and was experiencing back pain, so we visited the doctor. He recommended a trip to our chiropractor. Through the door we were instantly relaxed with the sounds of their trickling waterfall, soothing scents and visually cozy surroundings. Daughter’s name is called and following our discussion as to whether or not I should accompany her, she sallies forth to go into the exam room alone. This is a first, and I’m wishing I was permitted admittance, not by my doctor but by my daughter. Surprisingly, the doctor invites me in for the assessment.
Cheerfully, I agree. (Experienced mom note: Children NEVER disclose enough info to doctors, which is why moms should be present.) We discuss daughter’s health and back pain problem. Doctor determines she’s fine, but her overall posture and balance could improve. With marketing hat on, he recommends an on-site balance class conducted by a woman who was a former dancer and now is teaching the art of proper posture and balance to others. He suggests that I attend as well and pick up few pointers.
In all honesty, I’m a complete and total spaz with a layer of dysfunctional balance as icing on the cake. Having had two surgeries -- neck and back, I count my successes by rooms I can still paint, driveways I can still shovel and stairs I haven’t fallen down recently. Because of my balance or lack thereof, I no longer decorate staircase handrails at Christmas and always grip both sides going up or down stairs. This is learned behavior resulting from past trips, falls and stumbles. If I’m half asleep in the morning coming down the stairs, I’ll take the last two stairs as one and “boom” make a big sound sending hubby out to see if it’s just another spazy moment or I’m actually hurt. Fortunately, it’s usually the former rather than the latter, and that was a result of attempting to turn off the alarm on my cell phone while descending stairs. You’re likely thinking, can the woman walk and chew gum? Not anymore really. I used to be able to roast a chicken, clean the house and wash the car all at the same time. That was then, this is now.
It’s balance class day and we arrive at 9 AM promptly through the torrential rain. The class consists of myself, daughter and two women a bit younger than me. So there’s four students and one teacher (the former dancer) who arrives 10 minutes late due to the inclement weather. At first glance, teacher is NOT what I expected. She’s about 60-70 years of age, very overweight, gray-haired and has an enormous bandage on her whole right hand thumb. To complete the picture, the bandage has a few dots of blood on it. The class is scheduled from 10 AM – 1 PM and I can’t imagine how we’re going to do so little in so long. Daughter is furious and in her non-participation mode, which I ignore.
Teacher begins, “Stretch and scream b-l-a-a-h-h-h-h-h-h. This is our tension releasing exercise.” Done. Now, walk around the room. She’s watching and critiquing our walking strut and balance. My daughter gives me the dagger eyes. “How does that feel?” she asks. “You’re all looking so much lighter on your feet. Don’t they feel lighter?” Oh, yeah, they’re so different everyone replies. The other women, to whom I’ll refer as classmate #1 and #2 begin to report some problems. Mind you, these women weight about 100 lbs each.
Classmate #1: “I feel better on my feet but now my gerd is acting up.”
Classmate #2: “My back is hurting now."
I think to myself, “Seriously? Is this where we’re going?" I resist the temptation to report some stupid health blip but decide to take the high road with the hope of qualifing as one of the more sane people in the room.
More balance exercises and snack time. No one eats the snacks, teacher performs a dancer’s stretch on the floor and informs us that none of us is able to do such a thing at this time because we are not in physical shape to do so. I think to myself, “At least I can use a knife without cutting off my thumb…”
Daughter is so angry that she’s even there she has completely stopped interacting with anyone. I ignore it and attempt to come away from the class having learned SOMETHING. Teacher informs me that my lower torso and neck areas are extremely tight, boxy and controlled. What DOES that mean? I must learn to loosen the protective control on them. Seriously? Did she conclude this from the disclosure that I’ve had surgeries? Let’s see, how does one loosen the area surrounding a cervical neck fusion? Just tossing that out, but I’m feeling MUCH lighter on my toes! And we’re walking in circles around the room….
It’s feedback time again:
Classmate #1: “I beginning to get a migrane headache now.”
Classmate #2: “I’m feeling very ill, kind of dizzy, perhaps it’s all of this walking in circles…”
Daughter is staring at the clock silently and counting the minutes until we outta here.
Upon conclusion of our class, we bid farewell and daughter and I proceed to the car. She begins texting madly to catch up for the last three hours of cell phone silence and announces that we deserve to go to lunch together. Silently driving down the road, I smile, slip into my smart-ass mode and say aloud, “Teacher, my feet feel twinkle-toes light, but now I have a tension headache and my teeth are falling out. ”
Daughter finally cracks a smile, continues texting and without missing a beat replies loudly while shaking her arms, “B-L-A-A-A-H-H-H”, which if you recall, is our brand-new tension releasing exercise assigned to us by the dancing teacher.
The class was kind of a bust, but look at the myriad of material it provided. Quality daughter time with laughs to boot. Not too shabby for a rainy Saturday.
My youngest daughter plays lacrosse and was experiencing back pain, so we visited the doctor. He recommended a trip to our chiropractor. Through the door we were instantly relaxed with the sounds of their trickling waterfall, soothing scents and visually cozy surroundings. Daughter’s name is called and following our discussion as to whether or not I should accompany her, she sallies forth to go into the exam room alone. This is a first, and I’m wishing I was permitted admittance, not by my doctor but by my daughter. Surprisingly, the doctor invites me in for the assessment.
Cheerfully, I agree. (Experienced mom note: Children NEVER disclose enough info to doctors, which is why moms should be present.) We discuss daughter’s health and back pain problem. Doctor determines she’s fine, but her overall posture and balance could improve. With marketing hat on, he recommends an on-site balance class conducted by a woman who was a former dancer and now is teaching the art of proper posture and balance to others. He suggests that I attend as well and pick up few pointers.
In all honesty, I’m a complete and total spaz with a layer of dysfunctional balance as icing on the cake. Having had two surgeries -- neck and back, I count my successes by rooms I can still paint, driveways I can still shovel and stairs I haven’t fallen down recently. Because of my balance or lack thereof, I no longer decorate staircase handrails at Christmas and always grip both sides going up or down stairs. This is learned behavior resulting from past trips, falls and stumbles. If I’m half asleep in the morning coming down the stairs, I’ll take the last two stairs as one and “boom” make a big sound sending hubby out to see if it’s just another spazy moment or I’m actually hurt. Fortunately, it’s usually the former rather than the latter, and that was a result of attempting to turn off the alarm on my cell phone while descending stairs. You’re likely thinking, can the woman walk and chew gum? Not anymore really. I used to be able to roast a chicken, clean the house and wash the car all at the same time. That was then, this is now.
It’s balance class day and we arrive at 9 AM promptly through the torrential rain. The class consists of myself, daughter and two women a bit younger than me. So there’s four students and one teacher (the former dancer) who arrives 10 minutes late due to the inclement weather. At first glance, teacher is NOT what I expected. She’s about 60-70 years of age, very overweight, gray-haired and has an enormous bandage on her whole right hand thumb. To complete the picture, the bandage has a few dots of blood on it. The class is scheduled from 10 AM – 1 PM and I can’t imagine how we’re going to do so little in so long. Daughter is furious and in her non-participation mode, which I ignore.
Teacher begins, “Stretch and scream b-l-a-a-h-h-h-h-h-h. This is our tension releasing exercise.” Done. Now, walk around the room. She’s watching and critiquing our walking strut and balance. My daughter gives me the dagger eyes. “How does that feel?” she asks. “You’re all looking so much lighter on your feet. Don’t they feel lighter?” Oh, yeah, they’re so different everyone replies. The other women, to whom I’ll refer as classmate #1 and #2 begin to report some problems. Mind you, these women weight about 100 lbs each.
Classmate #1: “I feel better on my feet but now my gerd is acting up.”
Classmate #2: “My back is hurting now."
I think to myself, “Seriously? Is this where we’re going?" I resist the temptation to report some stupid health blip but decide to take the high road with the hope of qualifing as one of the more sane people in the room.
More balance exercises and snack time. No one eats the snacks, teacher performs a dancer’s stretch on the floor and informs us that none of us is able to do such a thing at this time because we are not in physical shape to do so. I think to myself, “At least I can use a knife without cutting off my thumb…”
Daughter is so angry that she’s even there she has completely stopped interacting with anyone. I ignore it and attempt to come away from the class having learned SOMETHING. Teacher informs me that my lower torso and neck areas are extremely tight, boxy and controlled. What DOES that mean? I must learn to loosen the protective control on them. Seriously? Did she conclude this from the disclosure that I’ve had surgeries? Let’s see, how does one loosen the area surrounding a cervical neck fusion? Just tossing that out, but I’m feeling MUCH lighter on my toes! And we’re walking in circles around the room….
It’s feedback time again:
Classmate #1: “I beginning to get a migrane headache now.”
Classmate #2: “I’m feeling very ill, kind of dizzy, perhaps it’s all of this walking in circles…”
Daughter is staring at the clock silently and counting the minutes until we outta here.
Upon conclusion of our class, we bid farewell and daughter and I proceed to the car. She begins texting madly to catch up for the last three hours of cell phone silence and announces that we deserve to go to lunch together. Silently driving down the road, I smile, slip into my smart-ass mode and say aloud, “Teacher, my feet feel twinkle-toes light, but now I have a tension headache and my teeth are falling out. ”
Daughter finally cracks a smile, continues texting and without missing a beat replies loudly while shaking her arms, “B-L-A-A-A-H-H-H”, which if you recall, is our brand-new tension releasing exercise assigned to us by the dancing teacher.
The class was kind of a bust, but look at the myriad of material it provided. Quality daughter time with laughs to boot. Not too shabby for a rainy Saturday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)