Two-in-One

I've had two social gatherings in 24 hours, which has been a sheer delight (and no pain in my back). Last night, my moms' group had its final meeting. After more than a year discussing motherhood, goals, obstacles, everything about ourselves, we met for the last time to create vision boards for the future. But mostly we chatted and pulled pictures from magazines, without too much organizing or gluing. Still it was fun to meet with friends, after these last months of isolation. And I realized something later about being in a moms' group like that: right now, the "mom" part of me isn't the most challenging or interesting or pressing issue (I'm guessing that health, especially functionality, and spirituality are). I don't need to talk about my life as it relates to motherhood right now. Of course, everything is intertwined--I will always be a mom and it is a blessing--but after six years, it's no longer that new or overwhelming; that identity has merged with all my other ones, even if it is still dominant. Perhaps that's why I also enjoy spending time with older women, with older kids--it's a different perspective, even a reassuring one, about how life evolves.

This morning I explored one of the other facets of me: I attended a meeting of the historic house's educational committee to work on the third-grade curriculum. In researching my part of the project, that of domestic life, I came across a wonderful website about "lies my docent told me" (see also here and here, based on exhibition here). You know, "people were smaller then," "without fire screens, women's wax makeup would melt off," and why old houses have separate kitchens. And woe be to me, I had bought one of these myths, the one about the blue paper of sugar cones being used by thrifty goodwives to dye fabric. The blogger, with an MA in history and experience at Colonial Williamsburg, says there is no proof of this. I'll be making our docents a special "historic house myths" handout for our first training session!

So, a pretty enlightening 24 hours. . . .