AGES AND STAGES

from Your Time Magazine Brisbane - October 2021_new

RETIREMENT LIVING

by Mocco Wollert

WHEN I was pregnant with my second daughter, I knew it was the only chance I would ever have to eat all I wanted. After all, I was eating for two.

Ours was the generation where the new mother stayed in hospital for ten days after the birth, wearing nothing but nighties. We were taught how to feed and bath baby but not about diet.

The attitude was “don’t worry, the weight will fall off when you are breast feeding.”

I did not worry, I was breastfeeding. When the day came to leave the hospital, I asked my husband to bring me one of my dresses from home. I was looking forward to wearing something normal again.

The rude awakening came when I did not fit the dress – size SW – at all and I had to send him out to buy a dress size W that I would be able to fit into, including the still protruding tummy.

My point is, I could send someone out, give that person my dress size and knew it would fit. In today’s world, dress sizes are a hit and miss affair. I can fit into dresses, skirts and tops from size 10 to size 18 or the European size 40 to size 44.

I have learned not to look at dress sizes and be upset when I need an “extra large” because in another shop, “extra small” might be too big.

A most important thing – in the good old days – were the side seams. If you were on the cusp between SW and W your first look would be for the width of the side seams and how much you could let them out.

No such luck anymore. There are no seams of any width in modern dresses and skirts.

There are no big seams to be let out in men’s trousers or shirts either. Their shirts are all cut for non-beer drinkers, no allowance for an expanding girth, buttons groaning, grimly holding the two front panels together.

These days, I am stalking the world in shoes which are too big for me. My shoe size is 36½ but there are no more half sizes in shoes. Putting in inner soles often does not quite do the trick.

And who invented the pointy shoes? The front of my shoe is either empty because the point is so far out – that half size I don’t need – or the pointed-toe part of the shoe so tight it compresses my feet, leaving my toes squashed and red.

Wherever I look in shoe shops anything elegant is so pointy, my poor round foot would creak in agony.

Lace-up joggers are a-plenty, with nice round fronts and room for toes but they don’t quite fit an elegant outfit. Or do they?

It seems anything goes these days and maybe that is good. I just might be able to go out to dinner in shoes that are kind to my toes.

May you wear any size dress and your shoes fit.

by Cheryl Lockwood

WHAT’S exciting about October? Well, it’s Queensland Seniors Month and the last Sunday of the month is Grandparents Day.

It’s about recognising the contribution grandparents make to the family unit, and it just might be another chance to spoil the grandkids too.

To be honest, I didn’t know this was an actual day, but as I have recently joined the grandparent club, it has suddenly became relevant. Our first grandchild arrived in May and the second in July. Thanks partly to the situation since Covid, the second little family are staying with us. I was chuffed at becoming a granny and even more excited to have the new bub so close.

There are plenty of baby cuddles for Grandad and me. Even better, there’s no broken sleep or midnight feeds. Dirty nappies are not our problem.

In these days of finding out the gender before the birth, we knew that the first one was a girl. For reasons that no one knows, everyone thought the second would be a boy. From the parents right through to the health professionals, we all seemed to refer to the unborn child as “he”.

Old wive’s tales, such as no morning sickness and the baby bump appearing low, all pointed to a boy. A craving for salty food over sweet was another one.

There was amateur study of the ultrasound pictures, though hubby wondered how anyone could tell: “It’s like a blurry witchetty grub.” Names were discussed, occasionally a girl’s name was thrown in, “just in case”. We all laughed because we knew it was a boy. It was then predicted that the baby would be bald judging by the baby photos of both parents and as Dad towers over six foot, the baby would be a hefty one too.

When the much-anticipated day came, out popped a tiny girl with an impressive mop of hair. Needless to say, we were all surprised.

Our “scientific” guesses were way off the mark!

Seeing your own children hold their babies is special. I can’t believe how amazed I feel, considering the birth of babies is a normal event and essential for continuation of the human race.

A friend told me that once I became a grandparent, I would lose brain cells. Poppycock, I thought. Yet, here I am, happily spending vast amounts of time just gazing at my grandbabies.

My vocabulary consists of a lot of, “oohs” and “ahs” and the household chores have taken a backseat, not that I needed an excuse.

Meanwhile, the first little one suddenly looks big alongside her cousin and has progressed to giving us heart-melting smiles. As I sat cradling the latest newborn, my daughter said, “I can take her if you’ve got things to do, Mum.” “What’s more important than this?” I answered.

So, send love and hugs to all the grandparents or catch up with the grandchildren, even if it’s online. Why wait until the end of the month? I’m celebrating my grandparenthood right now and loving this new adventure!