Second Helpings

Ordinary Days

I have written and sometimes complained of the blandness of days, the humdrum of routine and the lack of anything interesting to report. My Mum always used to tell me uneventful times were something to be grateful for and experience has taught me my Mum was right as usual.

I don’t think it’s the nothingness that gets to me as much as the passage of time. I’m rarely bored and never short of things to do. I have countless projects on the go and plenty of unhatched ideas for the future. Sometimes, I confess I crave excitement and the feeling of mystery and anticipation of youth, but alas that time is over for me and I should learn to be content with my lot.

I find myself drifting into the past too often and the painful memories have the potential to tear me apart on a perfectly ordinary day. I have to work hard at not allowing this; what’s done is done and I can do nothing about any of it. I have to assuage the feelings of guilt and regret that threaten to overwhelm me when in reality I need to be grateful to have survived it all and still be present in these uneventful days.

I tell others to take one day at a time. It has become my mantra as so many times an ordinary day has turned into a shocking nightmare when out of the blue fate suddenly hands you a situation you couldn’t have imagined. Yet it’s difficult to prevent thoughts and fears wandering into the future, particularly when optimism isn’t a natural characteristic.

I think it hit me when hubby was struggling to survive in hospital that it left me as the elder of the family, not counting my mother-in-law who at ninety-eight needs more help than she can give. Being the matriarch was quite a sobering feeling, particularly as I could not give anxious, younger members of the family the assurances they so wanted to hear. I’ve always said grandchildren are a sharp reminder of our own mortality and without sounding morbid, I often wonder how long I’ll be around to witness their progress and if they’ll even remember me when they are adults. But that is another imponderable.

We took Paul and his family out for a meal last Sunday to a restaurant where there are indoor facilities for children to play. During conversation Paul said he so wished he could halt time and keep the children the ages they are now. He’s saddened that Dylan has outgrown his Thomas the Tank Engine phase and confessed it upset him he no longer toots his way around the lounge pretending to be a train. I pointed out it would be more upsetting if he was still a tooting engine at thirteen with acne and a breaking voice.

We all know it’s natural and normal for children to change their interests as they grow, but I was pleased my son appreciates his little ones as they are now. Too many parents wish precious moments away, believing the next stage may be easier, when in truth every phase has its problems along with its treasured times. I didn’t like to tell my son that when I look at him I still see the cute baby, the curly haired toddler, the shy teenager and innocent young man setting off on his travels he once was.

Those travels took a turn we could never have predicted, but seven years down the line I find whatever problems we encounter on a regular basis due to his rash actions and whatever the precarious future holds, I am grateful my son has two beautiful children to enrich his life and ensure his own future has purpose and much potential joy along with the concerns and worries of parenthood. He has made a wonderful father and for that I am very proud of him.

It reminded me of a beautiful philosophy I came across on YouTube which I shall attempt to embed into this entry. No one is obliged to watch it, but I wanted to put it in here for posterity to remind me that sometimes ordinary days should be much appreciated, even when our time of raising a family is over.