Monday, July 17, 2017

Just Call Me Grumpy

I’m not sure if I’m grumpier lately or just more aware and catching myself at it, but after grumping my way through a nearby neighborhood, over the McMansions, I found myself grumpy with my two daughters last night. Biggest grump was over a towel I keep in the kitchen to dry my hair because I shampoo in the sink. They insisted it was dirty; I said it was my towel, and leave it where it was. Ended up putting it in the laundry but replacing with a clean towel, which I suppose was a compromise of sorts. Then there were the two bags of leftover meat filling for the meat pies—Megan handed one to Jordan and put one in my freezer. I said no, I wanted both—I bought the meat, made the filling, would feed everyone with them, but I wanted them in my freezer. Petty? You bet, but I felt I was under siege in my own kitchen, between the two of them, with their quickly exchanged eye rolls.

So I apologized for being grumpy, said I wanted it to be so much fun when Megan got here, and it wasn’t going that way. After swearing they weren’t criticizing my kitchen methods and saying I was way too sensitive, Megan said, “We all do that. We get it in our minds just how something’s going to go, and when it doesn’t go exactly as we think it should, we get grumpy. I do it with my boys, you do it your kids.” In truth, I’d already thought of that much earlier but was astounded to find myself still falling into the trap.

My grumpy fit cleared the air, and we had a great evening, augmented by what all (except Jacob) said was a great dinner. Jacob, who ate two meat pies, pronounced them so-so. Turkey! Today I found an online article that I hoped would explain my point of view to the girls and sent a link, asking them to read it. So far, no reaction. But if you’re interested, either as a senior or the child of one, you might want to check this out:

Up early this morning because I felt overwhelmed about all the work that had piled upon my desk—one day of cooking and ignoring the desk side of my life, and I was buried. Getting up early is great, because I got so much done and felt better about the world and my responsibilities. But I sure needed that afternoon nap.

Nice day—fixed a good lunch for the girls, had two doctor appointments, both with praise for my progress, and a delightful dinner with a friend of Megan’s who is here for her son to attend the same baseball camp with my boys. Jordan made it taco night—so good.

Time now to pick up the threads of the novel I’m working on, the neighborhood newsletter, and life in general. I think cooking—and Megan’s visit—distracted me. But what happy distractions.

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