Flying the Nest

Flying the Nest, posted with vodpod

As thousands of young people prepare to fly the nest for university this week, a new study by Endsleigh, has revealed an emerging generation of internet-savvy students and midlife parents is significantly changing the way families are now keeping in touch.

According to the study, parents rely heavily on social media platforms like Facebook to keep tabs on their children once they’ve left home, with 75% admitting to regularly checking their profiles to see what they’ve been up to. However interestingly, only 36% of the 18-25 year olds surveyed are actually friends with their parents on Facebook and almost three quarters (72%) deliberately choose not to be as they do not want their parents seeing personal pictures and messages.

The study also shows that 72% of 18-25 year olds who have left home now use the internet to communicate with their parents – 36% via email, 23% use social media and 13% Skype.  Mobile phones are almost as popular to keep in touch, with 70% using their handsets to call home and 60% to send text messages to their parents.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, only 7% of young people use post to keep in touch with their parents, which has reduced considerably from previous generations – 25% of 45+ year old midlife parents surveyed in the same study used post to stay in touch with their parents when they first left home.

When it comes to working out how to do basic household tasks, young people are becoming increasingly independent and self-reliant, with 44% of 18-25 year olds choosing to use self-help websites such as YouTube or VideoJug to find out how to boil an egg, work a washing machine or iron a shirt, compared to only 20% contacting home.

However despite the rise in usage of the internet and social media, young people are getting more homesick than ever – 62% of the 18-25 years surveyed confessed to missing home when they first left, compared to 55% of the 45+ year olds who were asked the same question about when they first left home.

Young people still need the emotional support of parents, with 67% confessing that the main reason they contact home is for a general catch up. Surprisingly, only 13% of the young people surveyed contact home to ask for money.

Commenting on the findings, Relationship Expert Christine Webber said: “These days parents are becoming less anxious about their kids flying the nest as there are so many different ways to keep in touch, but they must be careful not to invade their privacy by checking up on them too much. However it seems nothing can replace the comfort of the human voice, which is why so many students still need to ring home for a regular catch up.”

Aaron Porter, NUS President, added, “Students are becoming increasingly self-reliant and their faithful laptop has played a massive role in this, almost becoming a surrogate parent as they use it to keep in touch, share information and find out how to do things. However, parents can still play an important role by ensuring that things like anti-virus software and insurance is covered. Many students would feel as if they had lost their right arm if their laptop was lost or stolen so setting up insurance means one less thing to worry about.”

Endsleigh’s student possession report published last month revealed that every student surveyed returning to university for the start of the new term will be taking either a laptop (94%) or a desktop computer (6%) with them. The same study also showed that today’s students carry over £1,300 worth of goods on them on their person around town and campus.

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Midlife love this Valentines Day

It’s Valentines Day on Sunday.  Again.  That wretched life clock keeps ticking at an alarming rate, don’t you think?

So February 14^th is all about love and romance.  Supposedly.  It’s also about a huge marketing opportunity for card manufacturers, florists, restaurants, hotels and many more besides.  So how much should one spend to make a loved one feel “loved” enough?  And what on?  Call me cynical if you like, but I’m not sure I need some smart marketeer to tell me how to convey the love I have for my husband to him.

All the advertising hype also got me thinking about the use of the word “love”.  Girls say that they love their shoes; they love their clothes, and bags.  They love their work, shopping, cooking, books and on it goes.  Girls love absolutely everything that’s good in their lives.  And they love all the good stuff with huge enthusiasm.

Men, it seems, are not quite so flippant as women about the things they love, but they’re not far behind.  I’ve never heard a man say that he loves his shoes.  I do know men, however, who love golf and will say so.  I know men who openly say that they love their cars.  Maybe all the girly “loving” going on in the world is gradually rubbing off on the male half of the species little by little.

We “love” so many things these days I reckon we should try to find an alternative word or words to adequately describe the most precious feelings we have for our partner, or our children.  I might start saying “I give you my heart” next time I hang up the phone to my husband.  It’s a bit of a mouthful though; and no matter what alternatives I think of, none seem to fit the bill quite so perfectly as simply saying “I love you”.

Which brings me back to the initial question – how much should one spend on a Valentines Day gift to make someone feel “loved”?  Well, since “loving” material possessions has become so prevalent, I’m going to steer away from shop bought gifts altogether.  So I’ll be spending zero on gifts.

My husband will know that I love him when we sit down to a special Valentines Day dinner that we’ve cooked together and share a good bottle of wine, and I’ll know that he loves me when he does all the washing up afterwards.  And that’s good old-fashioned midlife love for you.  Priceless.

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Well, Yes, Sex Is Good For Your Health

An American couple recently resolved to have sex every day throughout December in an effort to curb their vices – his was cigarettes, hers was chocolate.  (Pull the other one!)  And it seems that it worked, in more ways than one.  The couple did indeed find that their cravings were reduced, but in addition they also felt healthier, slept better, and avoided the horrible winter viruses that normally affect them.  The results have been so successful that they are aiming to continue their “mission” into January.  I bet they are, and I suspect there are a good number of additional motives that they’re not mentioning.

I reckon that it would be an absolute doddle to keep this one up, don’t you, whether you’re young, middle aged or old, especially when you consider the lengthy list of possible benefits below.  Christ, sex cures all ills apparently.  So here we go – sexual activity -

1. Helps you live longer
2. Lowers your risk of heart disease and stroke if you have sex twice a week or more
3. Reduces your risk of breast cancer
4. Bolsters your immune system
5. Helps you sleep
6. Makes you appear more youthful
7. Improves your fitness
8. Helps protect against endometriosis
9. Enhances fertility
10. Regulates menstrual cycles
11. Relieves menstrual cramps
12. Helps carry a pregnancy to full term
13. Relieves chronic pain
14. Helps reduce migraine headache pain in some individuals
15. Improves quality of life
16. Reduces the risk of depression
17. Lowers stress levels
18. Improves self esteem
19. Improves intimacy with your partner
20. Helps you grow spiritually  (What … ?)

Could it be then, that more of us should be including sex in our list of New Year resolutions?  I think so, but not just because of the personal health improvement element; that would make it a bit of a chore, like going to the gym.  It should be included simply for the pure pleasure element in my view.  The rest is a bonus.

It does occur to this midlife writer though – what if sex becomes an addiction, with all this increased activity, pleasure and benefits?  Would that mean that next New Year I’d have yet another midlife addiction to resolve to fix, as well as my current addictions to cigarettes, alcohol and Millionaire’s Flapjack?  God, I might as well book myself into rehab right now.

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I’ve never shagged an Eskimo before

“I’ve never shagged an Eskimo before.”

“I’ve never shagged a Mexican before.”

Recent bedtime conversation between a poorly, cold-ridden midlife couple.  She was shaking and shivering with cold; he was burning up.

Mind ramblings: Why do we automatically think that Eskimos are cold people just because they live in an icy environment?  I bet they sweat cobs under all those layers of clothing and animal skins.  Same thinking applies to inhabitants of Mexico – is it the warm climate or is it the spicy chilli based food that conjures up “hot people” images?

I have no idea.  Need some medicine though to restore normal body temperature.  Otherwise my brain will probably explode.

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Christmas Eve

Thought I was organised.  I’m not.  Here we are on Christmas Eve and I’m still chasing about like an idiot.  (I’m even late posting this rant online.)

I have delivered the last of the Christmas presents tonight to the friends and family members we won’t be seeing on Christmas Day.  I’m very glad to be home safely; the roads are treacherous as rain is now falling on top of the snow we’ve had lying for days.  The whole world is one huge sheet of ice.  It’s freezing hard and I’ve run out of salt for the paths.  We Brits are rubbish at coping with winter weather.

First stop tonight was at an old people’s home to visit a lovely lady who used to live along our lane.  She’s 83 years old and suffering from Alzheimers.  I first knew Auntie Dorothy 23 years ago when my elder daughter was a tiny girl.  She and her husband, Uncle Nick, befriended our family when they used to see me pushing the pram up and down our lane whilst heavily pregnant with our second child.  They are no relation whatsoever to us, yet over the years they became “family”.  Uncle Nick offered to walk the baby in the pram as I was struggling to walk properly, and that was the beginning of a beautiful and lasting friendship between our two families.

Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick with our children

Auntie Dorothy taught our girls to bake cakes; Uncle Nick taught them how to tend a garden, and I do believe to this day that it was because of his early lessons that our elder daughter is now a horticulturalist.  These two marvellous people had two grown up sons, but never had grandchildren, and our girls filled that gap for them to some extent.  Over the years, our families have celebrated each other through some great times and helped each other through some terrible times.  Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick lost their younger son to cancer when he was only 30; we lost a business and my husband lost most of his family as a result.

It’s days like today when I give thanks for the special people in my life; the ones who really make a difference.  Uncle Nick died a number of years ago and after living alone at home for many years, Auntie Dorothy now resides in an old people’s home where she is well cared for.  She recognises me when I visit after thinking for a minute or two.  What she does recall very clearly, however, are the times long ago.  She remembers the times when her own sons were small boys; she remembers the times she spent with our girls.  Somehow she focuses on the good stuff.  She seems to have forgotten the bad stuff.  Maybe that’s how Alzheimers works; I hope it is.

My grandmother with my elder daughter in 1986

Auntie Dorothy has no idea what day it is; she has no concept of time or seasons.  She doesn’t realise that it’s Christmas even though we sat right by the Christmas tree tonight.  And as it’s Christmas, a time which always makes me think of my own grandparents, as well as Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick, the following poem seems so appropriate.  It’s also for my own precious mother:

Look Closer

What do you see nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you look at me?
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice, ‘I do wish you’d try’.
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe.
Who, quite unresisting, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill…

Is that what you’re thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten with father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another,
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon a true lover she’ll meet.
A bride now at twenty, my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own
Who need me to build a secure, happy home.

A woman of thirty my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty my sons will soon all be gone,
But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more babies play round my knee;
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look at the future, I shudder with dread,
For my young are all busy with young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love I have known.
I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel,
Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,
There’s a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells,
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m living and loving all over again.
I think of the years, all too few – gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer – see ME.

By Phyllis McCormack

Three generations of my family

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Taking my hat off to Julia

I had an evening out this week with an old friend I’ve not seen for ages; it was hugely enjoyable.

We drove out to a small village pub a few miles away to sample their lovely home-cooked food and have a couple of drinks.  The place was full of people having Christmas parties, with paper hats, crackers and all the festive paraphernalia.  We managed to get a table in a cosy corner right by the open log fire and got down to some long overdue catching up.

My friend has been on her own for the last six years, since her now ex husband traded her in for a younger model.  Have to say, Julia was looking great.

I also have to say that six years on from the most traumatic period of her life, my midlife friend has things pretty much sorted.  Yes, she struggles financially even though she has a full-time job.  Yes, she has had to take on endless new responsibilities.  But aside from all the obvious problems of being on her own after a being in a long marriage, she’s a whole new woman.  The Julia I knew long ago was always assertive to an extent; she ran her own successful business for many years.  But the new Julia makes the old Julia look like a mere shadow.

Julia is in her mid fifties; her attitude to life is that of someone 20 years younger.  “Young at heart” is a good description.

She told me of her trip to Hungary to get her teeth fixed; she went there because it cost less than having the treatment in the UK.  It involved three trips, and she travelled alone for two of them.  Whilst there, she visited the sights of Budapest, enjoyed the luxurious spa waters in the city, stayed in a good hotel and ate out.  All alone.  And she was happy with that.

This last summer Julia went on a camping trip with her two grown up children; camping would not normally be Julia’s thing.  The three of them and Julia’s dog stayed in a large old tent usually used by the kids for music festivals, so it’s well-used to say the least.  And the camping pitch they had in Cornwall was on a serious slope (they were late booking!), the result of which found Julia waking up each morning in a bundle several feet from where she started out as she’d slipped down the slope during the night.  They had breakdowns with the old car they were travelling in, requiring a new clutch cable and new wheel bearings just to keep them on the road.  All of this she thought amusing, although when her son suggested whilst driving home that they repeat the trip next year, she told him, “Over my dead body!”

There were other very funny tales to tell that evening and I came away with panda eyes from my mascara running down my face.  Inevitably, some of the jokes were at the expense of her ex husband, who incidentally is on to his third relationship since the split from Julia.  “He’s obviously having a hard time finding a good replacement!” was what she said with a grin.

Julia is more confident and happier in her own skin than ever before.  She’s thinking of re-starting her business on a part-time basis.  She’s thinking of the future; she feels that a new man would be quite nice, although she’s not sure where to find one.  She was hoping I could perhaps supply her with one, but I don’t know of any going spare right now.  She also knows that a new relationship could work now that she’s recovered and found fresh confidence; any sooner would probably have spelled disaster.

I’m loving that new sparkle she has in her eyes.  I admire her “young at heart” approach to life.  I adore that she can swear creatively, laugh and joke around and look to the future with joy.  I’m completely and properly taking my hat off to Julia.

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Annie Got Her Gun

Today’s blog post, in this public journal about my midlife journey, is about that hot topic: Sex. I am sure the spam block is going to be busy on this one. At least, I hope it is.

It is also about a new piece of jewellery I crafted today, which I have entitled “Annie Got Her Gun.”

And just how (you ask), am I going to tie these two topics together in one post? Well, gentle reader, let me tell you….

I recently had dinner with a good friend from high school who is dating a guy 15 years her junior. She is gorgeous, fun, smart, accomplished and a warm fuzzy. The guy is lucky. But it got me thinking about the term “cougar”, meaning an older woman who goes out with younger men, and the label makes me angry. Yes, there’s the whole “double standard” issue, but what really ticks me off is that the label is just another not-so-veiled attempt to belittle women’s sexuality and control the subliminal power of an older woman.

This truth is hard to handle for most everyone: Women in their 40’s, 50’s and up are the juiciest of them all. Or at least we are meant to be, if we allow our life’s transitions and changes – physically, mentally and emotionally. There is really no comparison between the sweet young things and their mamas. In terms of authentic juiciness, the mamas win hands down.

This is something that some younger men know. And that is why they are attracted to older women. We don’t carry the angst about things that we did when we were younger and tend to approach life with a great deal of hard won wisdom. It is a powerful and alluring combination.

But what about those of us who are in life-long relationships with spouses who are going through their own mid-life transitions? Men age differently. And their needs are every bit as valid as women’s, but when you are both going through your changes at the same time, you kind of look at each other and say, “I love you but leave me the hell alone, and I hope to see you at the other end…”

And that is why I made “Annie Got Her Gun.”

Because this lady handled her own barrel and won her man at the same time.

The above post is courtesy of Cate F Neely’s  “Heart on My Sleeve – Cate’s Blog”.  You can find her here: http://catefneely.wordpress.com/

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Would I parent in the same way if I was given the chance to do it all over again?

So, would I parent in the same way if I was given the chance to do it all over again?  Hmmm  ..  now let me think.  This follows on from yesterday’s post below, if anyone’s wondering.

Musical instrument classes?  Yes I’d pay for those again.  Why?  Because the sense of achievement and pride the girls gained from mastering an instrument was huge.  It also enabled them to play in church festivals at primary school and in the orchestra at senior school, all of which they enjoyed.  Do either of them play an instrument now?  No, they do not.  So what was the long term point of learning I hear you ask.  They understand the effort involved, and know that they applied themselves and achieved.  They can take that experience and belief in themselves and apply it to other areas of their lives as adults.

Dance classes?  Yes I’d pay for those again.  Why?  Again for their sense of joy and  pleasure in taking part in dance festivals and displays.  Do either of them dance now?  Socially – all the time like most young people.  In classes?  Our younger daughter danced until she was 16, and then did tap dancing classes whilst at university recently but the cost prevented her from continuing.  Now that she’s graduated she says that she will probably take up dancing again.  Elder daughter enjoyed the gymnastics classes the most – suited her athletic approach to life, and she gave up dance at 12 to pursue sport.

Drama classes?  Yes, I’d pay for those again.  Younger daughter did these for a number of years.  She thoroughly enjoyed them.  I’d say that these classes provided an outlet for her creativity on stage, and taught her to channel her enthusiastic energy for life.  She still is a drama queen to be honest.

Badminton classes?  Yes I’d pay for those again.  Elder daughter benefited hugely from taking part in sporting activities both in school and outside of school.  She gained in confidence, and played badminton at county level for two years.  She still plays the game now.

Swimming lessons?   Yes I’d pay for those again.  Both girls are very good swimmers.  We took them both swimming weekly from being babies, feeling that they should be able to swim for their own safety.  They learned quickly, loved it, and joined a local swimming club.

Rainbows and Brownies?   Yes I’d do that again.  They gained so much from the weekly meetings about teamwork, friendship, group activities, creative activities and much more.  I learned a lot too as I used to help out at the weekly meetings.

We used to take the occasional horse-riding lesson or two; both girls played golf with their father, and as a family we used to do many other fun activities, mostly outdoor things like cycling and walking.  None of these would I change or have my family miss out on.

So it looks as if I’d still run myself ragged to meet a hectic weekly schedule if I had my time over again.  There are other things, however, that this midlife mother would change, and this is where the hindsight comes in.

I remember being quite ambitious for my children; I can recall encouraging them in all things.  I wanted them to be good at stuff so that they would feel great about themselves.  And they were good at almost everything they did.  But being good at something does not guarantee that they will continue with it or develop it further.  Our elder daughter did very well at school and could have been anything she wanted to be.  She chose to be a horticulturalist.  She’s an exceptionally good horticulturalist too, loving what she does. And now, with hindsight, I can see that it wouldn’t matter what she had chosen to do, so long as it was something she really wanted to do she would be good at it.

Our younger daughter has just graduated from university and is now undertaking a Masters course.  She’s hoping to lecture at university in the future.  To be absolutely honest I could never have seen that one coming.

In conclusion then maybe I’d tone down my ambition for them if I had my time again.  I’d ease up on myself too and take a much more relaxed approach, because ultimately all a parent can do is give kids the best opportunities available, a range of interests, sports and hobbies to participate in and grow their confidence, and then sit back and watch this space really.  Things never turn out quite how you expect them to, do they?

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A Slice of Life

I came across this short piece of writing in our filing cabinet today.  I had almost forgotten that it was there, tucked away in a folder with several more.  The year of writing is 1996.  I used to write a regular column for our county paper when my children were small, entitled “A Slice of Life”.  Whilst reading my 1996 scribblings, it occurred to me that my life has changed completely over the last 13 years, so I decided to post up the original, and then examine quite simply if I was right or wrong back then.  How have things panned out considering I had strong views on most things, and also bearing in mind that hindsight is always a marvellous thing? Your comments are welcome as always:

A Slice of Life (March 1996)

This week sees the beginning of a period of chaos in our house, more chaos than usual that is.  Our younger daughter is busy rehearsing for a part in a local production of “Annie”.  The bathroom will constantly be ringing to the sound of “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile” and “It’s A Hard-Knock Life”.  The chaos derives partly from the temperamentality of a stage-struck eight year old, who deviates back and forth from being supremely confident to a bag of nerves at least once every day.  The added dates and times scribbled on the already overflowing kitchen calendar also contribute.  Not to mention the extra taxi service required of me and our car by the blue-eyed starlet.

I’m not complaining exactly, just a little tired is all.  You see, my belief is that by allowing our daughters to take part in theatrical productions; do dance classes; play musical instruments; go to Brownies and so on, they will become confident and well-rounded individuals.  That way they won’t have time to be bored when they’re teenagers.  Then they will be less likely to fall prey to the temptations that society puts before them, which every parent dreads.  That’s the theory anyway.

“You must be mad,” says my mother, as she coolly observes me frantically juggling my business and family commitments.  “You didn’t do all those things when you were a child, and you turned out alright!”

Of course I did, on the whole.  But then I wasn’t offered Ecstasy tablets as a teenager – I hadn’t even heard of it until recently.  The biggest temptation put under my nose was whether to smoke a No 6 behind the bikesheds.  And yes, I did accept, just for the devilment, and yes, shamefully, I do still smoke.  So there you have it in a nutshell.  I was easily led, incapable of asserting myself and applying common sense at 15.

My own children are much more aware of social and political issues than ever I was.  They have strong opinions already on the environment, world poverty and government.  They have access to a broad base of information at school, in the library and from the TV.  They even have their own early evening television news programme.  I feel that a broad experience of social skills is necessary to balance the scales of their development so to speak.

Another thing which worries my mother is the cost of all these activities.  She’s not the only one; I fret about it too.  But then as I point out, we did plan to have our two children, and yes, we did foresee raising a family as being expensive.  Most importantly, we owe it to them to provide a happy and secure framework on which they can build their future.  If this means making sacrifices, then so be it, even when it involves giving the butcher a miss for once.  It’ll have to be egg and chips instead, because younger daughter’s feet are becoming malformed in those size 12 tap shoes.

“Anyway, what’s the point of having a fridge full of food when there’s no time to cook it?” I jokingly ask my concerned parent.

I’m sure she has nightmares about talented, but half-starved grand-daughters, and whole families suffering from burn-out in this madcap world of ours.  She somehow can’t quite see that times have changed since I was a girl, and that we all have to adjust our lives accordingly, and make the best of it we can.

So I continue to ignore my mother’s protestations, and doggedly plough my chosen furrow.  Most of the time I’m convinced we’re on the right path.  It’s usually when I’m turning out on dark winter nights, forsaking the warmth of hearth and home to take or retrieve our socially active daughters, that I have grave doubts about the motivation behind the theory.  It’s all well and good producing self-assured kids who can turn their hands to most things, but when I’m tripping over clarinets and music stands, sewing costumes at midnight, and running a taxi service, I sometimes feel that I’ve bitten off a bit more than I can comfortably chew.

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