My Week In Review…

I went to my youngest daughter’ s school to help count money with fellow PTO moms.

We were counting donations given to students for a fundraiser.

It was only after I was back home that I saw the GIANT BLACK HAIR sticking out of my chin.

Sorry Carrie.

Carrie is the mom who was sitting to my left and was closest to my whisker.

And all of the other moms there were wearing shirts with our kids’ school logo on it.

I was wearing a shirt with my husband’s work on it…

My oldest wants to be Dr. John Watson for Halloween.


Oh, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

I see.

What does he wear?

A bowler hat and a suit, ya say?

And a big fuzzy mustache.

Gender-bender costume it will be.

And her sister…

She wants to be the devil.

We have tried to explain to her that Halloween is about dressing up as something that you aren’t.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked begrudgingly.

“You are already the devil” her sister matter-of-factly responded.

I made a lemon meringue pie.

I would have liked to make an apple pie, but I haven’t been to a good orchard yet and  don’t want to use store apples during fall pie baking season.

It seems wrong.

So, I made lemon pie.

And rolling out my dough was one of the most magical things I had done in a long time.


Because I finally have a useable work surface in my kitchen.

I have a new *used* butcher block table.

NEW to my house, but USED as it’s from my husband’s work.

The work that was on my shirt when I was with the other moms who screamed school spirit.

The stray who has stayed, Cornstalk, has found his way into our house.

He isn’t neutered yet and I have a huge fear that he’s going to spray his tom-cat stink on my new couch.

So we try to corral him in the kitchen and dining room areas.

But, I did find him here on Monday…


I feel a distance growing within myself.

A distance with others.

With my past.

That doesn’t want to be in my future.

Meaning people.

People from the past getting farther away from me.

Our commonalities are not what they once were.

And I’m okay with that, I think.

I have unfollowed 99% of people I have “friended” on FB.

Meaningful conversations seem to have flown the coop.

Society is shifting into a nasty place.

And I’m trying to shut it out.

There are so many “causes” and I feel as if I can’t communicate what moves me anymore because people are done.

Just done.

I’m trying to surround my small little life on this planet with people who care about me.

Who are generally interested.

And I’m finding that my circle is getting smaller and smaller and smaller every passing day.

I don’t think most people will even realize I’m gone.

My oldest is on her school yearbook staff this school season.

She is a photographer and we have been working on “getting a good shot.”

Photography has become a passion for me.

Finding the right light.

Finding a good subject.

Waiting and waiting for the best shot.

She went to her first assignment…middle school girls basketball game.

She got some really good pictures.

“I had NO idea what was happening out there” said my non-sports kid when I picked her up from the game.

“As long as you got the shot on your camera” I told her.

I love that she is artistic.

She writes stories.

She plays music.

She takes pictures.

Some people are meant to play sports.

And some people are meant to take amazing photographs of those people.

We all have a place.

I have learned that finding a purposeful life for myself is infinitely harder the older I get.

I don’t really know what to do with myself anymore.

Don’t know who I’m supposed to be.

I used to be…college student.

Then I was…dancer.

Then I was…veterinary technician.

Then I became…mom.

Then I became a…momcologist.

My least favorite but most meaningful job assignment to date.

Then I became…recess lady at my kids’ school.

Then I became………


I am feeling purposeless.

I am on the substitute teacher list at my kids’ school, but no one has called me to sub.

So I sit.

And wait.

And think.

And hear about all of the subs that are at the school (my kids are sure to tell me where they saw subs during the school day) and I get into my own head more and more…

did I offend someone?

do they not want me at school?

What’s my purpose now?

I have many interests, but how do I make money doing them?

I’m still working on it.

Wondering if I’ll ever find purpose again…


6 thoughts on “My Week In Review…

  1. Time to take a breather till your next life phase is ready for you? I’ve felt something like what you describe a number of times in my life (yowzer, is it really me who will be 70 next January??). Eventually, once the pain and sadness begins to lose hold of me, I realize that it was myself who was moving on, with subtle cues from others (my daughter, for instance, at various times). Go with the flow, know you will always be very much needed for your very special self, and don’t stress yourself while you wait for that next phase to find you.

    Liked by 1 person

      • Yes, but we wouldn’t give up the lessons learned, would we? Here am I with little of importance to do each day, going for radiation after the breast cancer event, taking some pleasure in meeting other recoverers (and some who won’t), loving learning from the staff how the process works, amazed about the line accelerator that delivers the specific doses of radiation that it has manufactured for each of us. It’s related to those gigantic particle accelerators such as the one in Cern. My son-in-law and I have profound (to us, at least) conversations occasionally, and it is quite special to talk life happenings over with a pair of 18 year old fellows who are living with my daughter and her hubby. Otherwise they would be homeless again… I know these things, this living close to my daughter (three blocks away) may soon end as my apartment complex has been sold, big changes (rent increases, anyone?) are perhaps coming. I could be packing up again, having to find new neighbors, new dog walkers, new ways of meeting the physical challenges of a different living situation. In other words — a new phase may soon bop my shoulder. Dang, and a little tribe of hummingbirds have taken over the little patio feeder of late. I do so dislike have to leave my hummers behind. … which all reminds me of how quickly these life phases come and go. Hang in there, Jen, you’re in good company. 🌞💐

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Emily ^ is a tough act to follow. She is right. I am at the mid-fifties mark now and am still trying to figure out my purpose (parenting is always there, by the way, even from a thousand miles). It is possible I can trump your T-shirt story, in a way that might make you feel better, though. On the final day of my Levels 4 and 5 NTC teacher training at American Ballet Theatre I was surrounded by other teacher trainees dressed to the nines, as they say. We were all milling around in the hallway on ABT’s 4th floor waiting our turn for the most challenging and scary part of our exams, the orals. You go into a small classroom outfitted with a freestanding barre, with your adjudicator sitting behind a desk with her grading rubric and pen, and then answer questions—demonstrating if you need to. My adjudicator was one Susan Brooker, English, polite, at the time director of BalletMet Dance Academy. She fired off one question after another, tricky questions, the toughest ones about a progression of a movement. Example: explain everything a student needs to have learned prior to executing a brisée, and show the correct progression of movement leading to it. So you start answering, from the beginning: a strong demi-plié. A strong battement tendu and dégagé. A strong sauté in first position. A strong changements. A strong échappé. A strong entrechats quatres. Etc., etc. I would finish my answer and she would say, Yes, that’s lovely, go on—what else? By the end of that closed-door session I had armpit stains from the sweat: stains in the pits of the one clean blouse I owned at the end of ten days in the city, which I’d worn untucked over a pair of rumpled denims, the one clean pair of pants in my possession. All the other teachers were wearing gorgeous tailored outfits, like there was some tacit agreement to do this and I missed that meeting. I passed with flying colors, and clearly, you are, too. And anyway, most days, you can’t really dress up as something you aren’t, right? Beautiful post.~Deb


  3. Pingback: My Week In Review…Week 2 | Cheshire Farm

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