Things That Don't Bother Me Anymore

Yesterday, I was folding some laundry, specifically towels and washcloths. As I looked at the pile of almost neatly stacked towels of various colors and patterns, it hit me: My towels don't match. And I smiled because years ago, I would have been bothered by that. I remember when I had matching towels for each bathroom; heaven forbid, one found its way into the wrong place! It made sense to twenty-five-year-old me, and that is okay. Now, I am not bothered. Not one bit!

Another thing that I am not bothered by anymore is jeans. I used to love jeans. In high school, it was Jordache and Sasson. By the time I was a young mother, it was Tommy Hilfiger. Now, I have jeans, and I wear them on occasion. But, I feel presentable in pants and even leggings, if my sweater is long enough! Comfort trumps style anytime, especially for this lady with four C-sections!

I am not bothered anymore by allowing my children to see me overwhelmed and upset. When they were young, I held onto this idea that I was their superwoman. I was always ready to take care of things, always the rock they could come to to fix a broken toy, or put the band-aid on a little cut. I wanted them to have a happy mommy. Eventually, I realized what my children needed to see was me. I realized one of the best things I could do for them is allow them to see me sad, overwhelmed, tired, and even angry. How else could I help them work through their human emotions? I want my not-so-little children to know that it is normal to be sad. It is okay to cry. Sometimes things get to be too much, and how do we deal with that? And now, as adults, they are such a comfort to me!

This was a hard one. By nature, I want everyone to get along. My nickname in my family growing up was The Peacemaker. I never wanted anyone to be upset, sad, or hurt—not because I thought of myself as some special human being, but because I just wanted everyone to be happy. I didn't look at it as a job, but eventually, I realized it wasn't my responsibility to constantly worry about everyone. It was exhausting! I could do my part in being kind and helpful, listening when asked to, and being there for support. This was a tough one. And maybe the one I am still working to perfect.

And this one: I used to iron every Friday evening. I didn't mind it, and I was happy to have all our clothes nice, clean, and neat at the end of the week. Somewhere along the line, I stopped ironing every week and ironed a few nice things, like Steve's work clothes and pants. When we began homeschooling, and the kids replaced their uniforms with leggings and sweatshirts, I retired the iron and folded up my creaky ironing board. I became highly skilled in the art of retrieving each piece of clothing that could wrinkle from the dryer at the perfect time. I must admit, Madison introduced me to the handheld steamer, so I am covered when something needs the extra touch. But my days of ironing are behind me. And I am completely unbothered by that.

These are some perks of aging, my friends, don't you think? Realizing that what worked once may not be necessary or essential today. Do you have anything to add? I would love to know!

Billie Jo

( Thanks to the clever people who come up with these images! )