Twelth Night

    January 6 is the official – well, traditional – end of the holidays.  The last of the Twelve Days of Christmas.  The day the three wise men finally made it to Bethlehem with their gifts to the Christ Child.  The night St. Nicholas filled Dutch children’s wooden shoes with goodies.  The date the Christmas Elf brought toys to children in Norway.  The last delivery of pipers, milkmaids, swans, leaping lords, and the Partridge in a Pear Tree.

    And what am I doing on this January 6? 

    Trying to find the energy to resume all the activities I put on hold while making pointless visits to doctors in the last few months.  Routine visits to dentist and eye doctor: no cavities and no need for new glasses.  Pain in my arm sent me from vascular surgeon (no problem with blood flow) to neurologist (nerves okay) to hospital for Doplar (neck artery open).  Perhaps I have carpel tunnel (due to all the typing I do).  Or maybe I am just old.

    My daughter Martha came to see me for a few days after Christmas.  She and her brother David are in similar situations, Martha in Illinois, David in California.  Both have important, successful careers.  They make lots of money.  What mother wouldn’t be proud? 

    I worry about my son and daughter.  Both work 60 hours a week and are stressed out, trying to find time for their families and with no time just to sit back and chill out. 

    I remember the frantic years when I was a working mother.  I also remember years when I was not working, when my children were little.  I was NOT a stay-at-home Mom.  Wherever we lived, the children and I went places and had fun. We went to state fairs in Michigan and Texas, to museums in Detroit, Philadelphia, and Chicago.  We produced puppet shows and plays in the basement, clothes-line art shows in the backyard.  Rainy days we played monopoly or worked jigsaw puzzles.  We went tent camping, just the kids and me.

    And I still had time to read novels – and write a few – be a Girl Scout leader, Cub Scout den mother, take an active part in the League of Women Voters, and play bridge with AAUW friends, plus church work. 

    It is sad that today’s millions of working mothers have no time to play with their children.  For most, the income is necessary.  But is it really? 

    As for me, I now have no responsibility for anyone else.  How I spend my time is up to me.  So far my new January 2013 calendar is blank.  I refuse to accept any doctor appointments until February.  And I’ll post blogs only after I’ve caught up on other activities.

    Today I sat in my recliner with Charlie in my lap and read the Dec. 24 & 31 New Yorker.  Among the cartoons I found one that will be my motto for 2013.  A New Year’s Eve party, with balloons and champagne.  A man in a funny hat lifts his glass and says, “Here’s to even lower expectations in the New Year.”  

    To Hell with all the things we “should” do.  Let’s have fun.