Monday, October 28, 2013

Blue Monday, Think I'll Throw a Pity Party

I hate to start the week off on a down note, but sometimes we all slip up and throw ourselves a pity party.

Mine came rolling in on the heels of messed up schedules and a puking preschooler and my apparent inability to set aside two freaking hours in a week's time for myself for the second week in a row.

Walking dogs when I still hadn't had my first cup of coffee this morning, I gave in. Poor, pitiful me.

It was kind of pitiful, actually. Me and a trio of dogs flying down the road at their breakneck pace and me crying. Didn't take long for me to remind myself that a lot of people have things a lot worse. Or for me to decide that didn't really make me feel better.

Add a couple of hours and my morning schedule, along with that of three little girls and their mom has been thoroughly disrupted. By the time they are generally arriving at my house, baby had broken a 20-year-old handthrown pot given me by a deceased friend, strewn wine corks all over the kitchen floor and emptied her diaper bag; E1 had spent nearly two hours curled up against me on the couch watching UNCTV before deciding she needed a snack and beginning to make a recovery; and E2 had colored their craft table and left the water running for some undetermined amount of time in the bathroom. Oh, and I still hadn't had my second cup of coffee.

It was time for balloons and cake at my pity party. Really, I was ready to get going good.

I gave a few minutes of thought to the moms all over the world doing the same all-important and thankless job, and then was even jealous of them because they have their peers who are doing the same thing. I have yet to find a support group or play group for stay-at-home grandmas or even know anyone in the same boat.

Then the phone rang. A friend was nearby and wondered about stopping by. I put away the balloons and told her to come on.

She stayed 15 minutes or so. The baby fell asleep in my lap and the other two snuggled on me as soon as baby was in her crib. Both wanted lunch, which meant the tummy bug might be losing its grip. There was even a possibility that schedules might work out and my workout still be a reality. The day took a quick reset.

It didn't take gifts, elaborate planning, or even going out for a little time with a friend to turn my day around.

After she left, instead of continuing on my blue Monday trend, I was left pondering how quickly and easily one person can make a difference in another's life. How often do we think about calling or stopping by, then decide we're too busy and go on our way? What opportunities do we miss to turn someone's day around? Or how often do we actually make a difference and go through our day unaware.

Perhaps I need to take a more proactive approach to getting away from the loneliness that sometimes seems overwhelming during long days with small children and dogs. Maybe there really are other grandmas like me in my community that share more in common than small children.

Maybe I can make a difference for someone other than myself by making a little effort. It really can't hurt to try.

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