I’m very much enjoying the thoughtful comments from those of you who are still stopping by, despite the good weather entiicing us outdoors. If you haven’t seen Friday’s post yet, I think you might enjoy the conversation there.
Two points I’d like to add to that conversation, but first let me share two recent outfits which indicate the switch to Spring. Above, just two weeks ago, I was wearing my wool bouclé jacket (Eileen Fisher) with cashmere scarf for extra warmth. Red leather gloves and the off-white wool sweater you see peeking below the jacket hem. My fairly new pleated skirt, tights, slip-on metallic Oxfords. . . Not full-on winter gear, but still quite cozy.
And then last week, the temperature climbed into the mid-teens (Celsius), one day hitting 17 in the afternoon. In fact, I started my walk that morning wearing this Eileen Fisher navy merino sweater over a light dress (viscose) I bought in Paris last year.
Navy tights, because it’s still not bare-leg weather here, but I’ve switched over to my pink Oxfords for a lighter look.
I wrapped the scarf (see? I wear it SO often!) around my neck before I headed out, but it was wrapped up and tucked into my backpack before I made it to my destination three kilometres away.
Such splendid weather — and I can’t wait to show you what the sunshine is coaxing into bloom out on the terrace — next post!
For now, though, those two points I wanted to add to Friday’s conversation about our bravery and our fears. First of all, let me admit that while I can be stoic (and stubborn!) when I’m trying to keep up with Pater, I will also whinge at him about my fears and anxieties, telling him that what he’s asking isn’t reasonable or that it’s too hard or that he’s not being careful enough or that. . . . Well, you get the idea. The sad truth, though, is that if I were trying the same activity with a (more competent, more confident, possibly even Badass) friend, I’d be much more likely to “suck it up.” I’d probably express some concern, tell that friend I wasn’t sure I could climb that slope or paddle into that chop, but I’m more likely to hush my Inner Pyramid Girl. With Pater, I give her permission to howl. Anyone else relate? Do you have some companions you’re willing to expose your fears to more than others? Or some you feel safe enough to resent for encouraging you to face those fears?
And then the second point is one that Wilma raised in her comment to Friday’s post: Are some of us beginning to experience protectiveness by our adult children around our riskier endeavours? Those daughters in the movie Book Club, for example. I didn’t find them credible at all, but perhaps that’s because I can’t bear to think of my kids trying to dictate what I can or should do, based on my age. But is that reality just around the corner for some of us? Or already here? Have some of you noticed protectiveness like this, and can you imagine it (or have you experienced it) turning to disapproval of some of your activities? Or even an attempt to restrict those activities? (From another perspective, I think of my friend’s mother, in her late 80s, swimming in the surf on an extended-family vacation in Hawaii — there’s clearly a risk. My own mother in her early 80s, walking 10 or 15 kilometres daily, cognitive impairment generally not affecting her mental maps of the city, but occasionally . . . And somewhere there’s a photograph of her, probably a bit older than I am now, showing the grandkids how to rock a pair of stilts!)
I’m keen to hear your thoughts. But if it’s deliciously Spring-like where you live (or perhaps you’re moving into crisp Fall days in the Southern hemisphere), I’ll understand (and approve, even if I miss you) if you’re outside basking and inhaling and maybe hiking or kayaking or out in your gardens. . . Enjoy! And wave from the garden, if you’ve a minute 😉
I like your outfits, especially the first one. I love black and tan together.
My mom was a Nervous Nellie, and I felt like I was the one dragging her toward adventure. My parents visited me in Africa, and I even got them to hitchhike. Harder than that was to get her to actually ask store clerks for information. ("Don't bother them," she'd say. "You aren't so important," she would say if I dared ask for a different size.) I think we did get overprotective when my dad was having problems and my mom was just unable to react. I was there the first time my dad had insulin shock and I called an ambulance. My mom was all "don't bother them." My siblings and I pushed my parents to move to assisted living. My dad loved it; my mom hated it. I still wonder whether we did the right thing.
Stepping in with elderly and frail family members is like a cat on a hot tin roof. Concern (to the point of genuine fear) can be interpreted as interference but better in than out, I would say. I sincerely hope I will be able to discuss things rationally when the time comes with my kids but I may well be whistling in the wind here. So far, so good though I do recall my young daughter seeming very anxious when I started to run marathons and she quietly gave me a little metal heart on a ribbon which I always wore, just to show her that I understood. Still got it and I think it probably deserves something more splendid than the old black ribbon now. We shall see how they react when I set out for Samarkand in a few years.
Having lived as a single person since I left home for university, I've always had to make up my own mind about facing my fears or giving in to them. Which has not turned me into a very courageous person, as far as physical challenges are concerned. On the other hand, I've had to learn to stand up for myself (and get rid of my spiders ,)) and the older I get the easier I find it to stick my neck out.
My son is a very caring person, and he may very well become more protective in the future, but I hope and trust that he will not push me towards anything I do not want. In order to maintain my independence as long as possible (and thereby taking weight off his shoulders) I am preparing to move into a barrier-free flat in a multi-generational housing project while I am still able to do my part to establish neighbourly reciprocity.
When traveling overseas with my daughter recently, she was very concerned that I not overdo it–though we ended up walking about 10 miles every day. Her concern was due to the fact that I had ankle surgery several years ago that left me with residual nerve issues in that foot and less physical prowess than I once had. My sons also get upset if I try to move heavy items or climb up on chairs, etc. so I don't do that when they are around. I understand their concern, but I don't let it stop me from doing what I want or need to do. They aren't obnoxious about it, just a tad concerned.
From the perspective of a daughter (when I was in my early 30s), I do remember when my father wanted to go overseas for several months (to be with a lot of people he knew and doing things he loved) and my mother kept saying she did not want him to go, even though she would be with him. He was 71, just a few years older than I am now, but he had had several heart attacks since his early 50s and other physical issues. I asked my mother what she was afraid of and she said he could die. I said, yes, he could, but he would die happy–doing the things he loved, in a place he loved, with people he loved. She relented and they went on the trip and had a wonderful time, making great memories. Seven months later, he suffered a stroke and another heart attack and died. We took his ashes back overseas where they were scattered over the land he loved, with all those people he had recently visited in attendance. We were both glad to remember that he had had his last hurrah.
My mother refuses to walk. If she would use a walker, she could visit the nearby shops and shopkeepers every day but she persists in driving everywhere. My sister and I have pointed out that when she no longer can drive she will be completely grounded as she does not uses buses or taxis either. Vanity is limiting her happiness but I guess we are free to make our choices whether they be good ones or not.
I went back and fell down the rabbit hole of your previous posts. My mother was a very Nervous Nellie. I hear her voice whenever I do anything challenging. It seemed years before I could strike a match without hearing her tell me to be careful and not burn myself.
Consequential I push myself, always telling that inner child, yes you can.
Ali
Isn't it wonderful to be wearing transitional outfits these days? Lighter clothing makes me feel like I'm floating a little.
My parents (82, 85) are still very independent, almost too much, perhaps. I wish they would consult others when they make decisions or take one of their children to medical appointments because I think they don't ask the right questions or hear the answers clearly. They are of the generation where what the doctor says is the way it has to be. Knowing when to gently interfere and when to hold my tongue is a balancing act I find difficult.
I just love those pink oxfords. They are so YOU.
OK – that Book Club movie was shit, despite my utter love of Diane Keaton and Jane Fonda. Keaton's film children were ABSURD and I think that Mary S's husband should have left her, stat. My parents are 71 and I have had lots of meaningful convos about aging with them, not least of which because my physical challenges make me far older, in some ways, than my years. But in truth, I've always been old for my years. My mother (who has had cancer but is now cancer-libre, as you know), has made her plans very clear and I totally disagree with them and we've had a number of heated debates. My biggest concern for my parents is about who dies first and leaves the other behind. Because, while I know my mother could bear it (just), my father would be a wreck. And they live too far away from me, and in another economy, so I cannot really help them through their later years. They know this. They know they left me and this is how the cookie has crumbled, but I don't think my sister is up to caring for anyone (and she's the one who lives close).
Also – so sorry to be remiss in responding to my emails for the past couple of days. I've had an intense moment and I'm not as responsive as I'd like to be 🙂
I've sometimes felt bad for older friends who are treated like young children by their adult children when they seem perfectly competent. Maybe I should be more protective of my 83 year old mother, but she's a whipper snapper, take charge, "I can do it" type person and while there are a few things I assist her with there really are very few. I do not at all worry about her doing things that she should no longer be doing – but then she's never been one to do things like climb mountains, etc!
Forst. I admire not just the clothes but your ease in accommodating the shift. I have just taken a short trip, moving from 1C to 10C and simply could not get my head into it after many months of extreme cold, so here I am overheated in a too bulky coat.
Second, I will speak up if I am overextended and feel no responsibility to "suck it up". (And I have always heard bullying in that injunction.) I will wait till the fitter or just plain more competitive return from going further, thinking my thoughts on a bench or rock.