It's official, I have turned into my mother. And it's about time, too, in some ways. We were home for my birthday this weekend. It is my birthday today, and my folks like me to come home to celebrate. I haven't for the last two years. We just haven't felt like leaving working teens at home alone, and there was Zane that needed cared for while the working is going on. I suppose I could have insisted they take the time off. But I didn't. So, this time we DID leave the one working teen home. So, the weekend was tempered by hoping he was doing what he was supposed to, and not running around getting into trouble. I haven't heard anything, yet.
It has been over a year since I visited in the house I grew up in, my folks have been making the trips our way, for birthdays and visits and other celebrations. But, I found myself looking at it with new eyes. Part of those eyes came from flylady as I looked at all the stuff they have around, but another part, also from flylady, saw the dishes pile up and washed them as we dirtied them, and wiped off counters as we finished with them, so we were never faced with a huge pile. What struck me the most was how easy tidying up and puttering around came to me. Working in the kitchen with my mother, cooking for the masses, and cleaning up afterward. It felt good, it felt right. Now, don't think I've never set foot in my mom's kitchen when we've visited before. I've always helped cook and clean, it was just so effortless now. I wasn't thinking, "I would much rather be doing something fun, like sitting on my backside, reading or crocheting or knitting."
I remember visiting at my Grandma Appleman's house, and all the women folk would be busy around in the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, talking. Sometimes I thought I should be helping, especially as I grew older, but it was a lot more fun doing other things. It felt just like that this weekend, like another generation is continuing what the first generation began. I like continuity; I like things going on as they have before. It is a rock to hold on to in these ever quickly changing times we live in today.
So, either flylady has thoroughly infected me, or it was the tea I drank at breakfast.
Or maybe I'm growing up.