The Backstory

Ready!

My husband and I were preparing to share our house with our older daughter, two grandsons, and a dog, and I wanted information! The heavens were silent, however, offering little guidance online or in print outlining the pros and cons of a Walton-type existence. Most often there were tales of elderly parents moving in with their children (not yet, no, never) or adult children moving home for support (not ED, please no, never). Neither scenario matched ours.

 

Set!

Using our problem-solving skills, we plunged into the arrangement. Honestly, it worked because we were determined to make it work. There were joys, but there was tension. To celebrate the joys and relieve those tensions with minimal alcohol, and to make sense of the challenges and blessings (challenges and blessings challenges and blessings . . . ) of this shared household, I began writing a blog, We are Not the Waltons. It was meant to be sardonic. Aware that many families are considering sharing homes, I declared myself the multi-generational house sharing guru, documenting our experiences to guide others contemplating this living arrangement. At least make them think. Please, think!!!

 

Go!

Meanwhile, outside this cozy setup, I retired from my work as a medical Speech-Language Pathologist, looking forward to travel and new hobbies and friendships, just like the Viking Cruise and retirement community ads. I underestimated the physical and mental challenges accompanying aging and NEVER imagined the impact of a world-wide pandemic. I created a second blog, Restless Retirement, to release the energy that the challenges of retirement fueled.

 

Wait!

Insanity, menopause fog, and or COVID brain prompted me to set myself a fitness challenge that including strengthening and weight loss to prepare for the fun of aging. Hip replacement, torn meniscus, partial knee replacement, and arthritis aggravated by stubborn fat forced me to reassess my goals. Mild depression and anxiety did not help. Menopause overloaded the circuits. Fit Enough for Life was born. Not exactly a hit, I am approximately as fit as when I started, which, when aging, can be considered progress.

 

Oops!

It worked for a while, three sites, three topics. Then I noticed Blue Boy peeking into my retirement blog, and Jigga the dog curling up in my fitness site. Mowgli flitted here and there. It was impossible to keep Mike out. Get the idea? Life is not a collection of discrete vignettes.

 

I gave up…

and began accepting Life’s scenarios as ingredients simmering together in a pot until you can’t distinguish the carrot from the potato. The inclusion or omission of one element affects the flavor of the whole, sometimes in surprising ways. The rubbery, colorless, tasteless carrot offers nothing but bulk and sabotages flavor, its repugnant appearance on the spoon provoking scowls at the table, while a dry, brown bay leaf, thrown in as an afterthought and removed by the chef prior to serving, never to be seen by the diner, becomes the star.

 

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And here we are

My reflections are now combined for easy reading or deleting. You can learn from my successes and mistakes and attempts or shake your head in disbelief. For those of you who keep asking, you can keep up with the Cornelii clan.

 

My wish for you

I hope you are momentarily distracted from any stresses which are bogging you down and especially (whisper) global politics. Your positive feedback is appreciated. Just dump anything else in the Meta network trash can and pollute digital space.

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