Change

Change. Not one of my favorite things. I like consistency, routine, tradition, sameness. I always listen with some confusion when people talk about what the menu is going to be for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. I keep thinking, "What is there to think about?  The menu is the same that it's always been for the past 25 years ... and that's the way it should be!"  I like familiarity. I drive a 10 year old car that has over 100,000 miles on it because, in large part, I like my car.  I like knowing the idiosyncrasies of my car and I like the feeling of familiarity in sliding behind the wheel.  

I don't rearrange furniture, I don't paint the walls.  I've had the same haircut for a decade.  I'm comfortable with routine.

I have two friends right now who are both in the midst of major moves -- not just selling/buying a new home and moving, but a new job, school, church ... huge changes. I have another friend who just moved, locally, but she also quit her job to be a full time mommy to her two little ones. New house, new neighborhood, new career path.  All three of these families are eager and excited for this new phase of their lives. 

I can't relate.

The thought of new and different, of change, terrifies me.  Even if it isn't a huge, life altering change, I don't really see the need to change things up just for the sake of changing things up.  My husband doesn't agree, and we often have ... discussions ... about his need to see and do new things and my complete resistance.  To him, jumping in the car and heading out to explore a nature trail he read about in the paper is a fine idea.  To me, it's fraught with disaster and peril.  

I have a child who is just like her daddy.  She went off to college without a backwards glance -- she just knew college was going to be an adventure and she was going to love it, and sure enough, that has been her reality.

My other child joined the military -- obviously he is content with change and with not setting down roots and permanence!   

So there I am, the lone wolf in the family. I cling to my routine and my consistency. I like ... I NEED ... to know what today, tomorrow, next week will hold. I like unpacking the Christmas things and seeing the same old, same old.  I like knowing my morning coffee will be in my favorite Pooh mug, I like being able to walk thru the living room in the dark, knowing where every stick of furniture is. 

I really, really love the things in my house that have been passed down from generations now in Heaven, I almost get weepy when I hang ornaments that have been on a Newsom Christmas Tree for over 60 years, or I get out a gravy boat that has sat on a Newsom a Thanksgiving table since before my children were born.

I don't understand people who face change with excitement and enthusiasm.  I am a bit jealous of them, for I think they probably go through life a bit less stressed than I do, but it's just not in my genes. 

I'm trying, I'm working on it -- but deep down, I'm not comfortable with it.  

I have to make changes in little, incremental steps. We just rearranged the living room, and while I will admit it looks better, I'm still not comfortable with it.

I'm wondering what this Christmas will be like. All my children will be home (Hooray!  Thank you, God!) but I'm wondering if I'll be able to see them as adults or will I revert to "mom-ing" them, because that's what I'm comfortable with?  I know how to "mom" young children, I'm not quite sure how to treat grown children.  

To those people who can relate to what I'm saying, I'd love to hear words of wisdom.  To those who can't relate, please be understanding. Don't judge or expect great, huge changes -- and please understand why, if you use *my* morning Pooh mug for your coffee, I might just have a breakdown.

I like my routine, my comfort zone, my rituals. It works for me. But I also acknowledge that it can be restrictive and can stop me from fully experiencing life. For example, I *want* to get a dramatic new haircut -- really, really badly -- but the thought of actually DOING it is scary.  So I keep throwing my hair back in a ponytail.  It's comfortable.  It's secure. It's ... safe. 

I'm really curious as to what it'll be like once the (grown, adult) kids are here.  That'll be a test.  Maybe if I pass with flying colors, I'll get a haircut!  And who knows?  Maybe, one day, a new car?  

Ah, change. Little, baby steps.