BEL MOONEY: Are my kids being mean to me – or am I a silly old woman?

Dear Bel,

I’m so unhappy after a rotten eight months. My husband (76) retired due to an eye problem so I’m still working at 73.

We didn’t book a holiday at the beginning of this year due to his eye problem, then Covid happened. Our two sons are married and I’d love us all to holiday together. The last time this happened was in 2000.

What’s upset me is that about six weeks ago my husband told me our elder son, his wife and two girls were planning a week in Devon, with my other son and his wife. It wasn’t mentioned to us. I asked my husband why they didn’t ask us. He just shrugged.

We’ve seen them all a few times since and not a word has been said about the holiday. We popped round to see the elder son last Sunday and a couple of suitcases were out, so it was holiday time. On the way there my husband told me not to mention it. When we left, he said: ‘Enjoy yourselves.’ I just said: ‘Bye, see ya.’

When my husband asked our youngest why they didn’t ask us, he said it was because lately I’ve been saying I haven’t got any money. But I’d never have expected them to pay for us — so assume they didn’t want us. What other reason?

For them to behave like this has really upset me. Today they’ve all gone to a place my husband and I used to go when we first met.

I know he’d have loved to be there — but won’t confront them over this. Am I just being a silly old woman?

PEARL

Oh dear, I can’t help it. The short sharp answer to your final question is, I’m afraid, yes. But you mustn’t stop reading this reply — in as much as a huff with me as you are with your sons.

Because if you don’t come to your senses and control these foolish feelings of being left out, you are in danger of souring family life. So listen up, as the Americans say.

First let me say: ‘Snap!’ I, too, am 73 and still working, with two adult children and grandchildren, all of whom went to Devon on a holiday recently, without asking us. In fact, the lucky things have had two fun-filled Devon holidays together, while my husband and I haven’t been away anywhere at all this year.

And you know, I can’t think of a single reason why they should feel obliged to invite us to join them.

They did ask a couple of friends down on one of the weeks, and why shouldn’t they?

Oh, let the thirty and fortysomethings have a great time together, while they can. My lot partied hard, and I ‘liked’ every one of their jolly Facebook pictures and laughed my socks off when they confessed they got a bit tipsy one night and went skinny-dipping in the river. Brrrr — but good for them!

Come on, it’s not ageist to say that we oldies ought to let our children live their own lives without giving them guilt trips with no darn reason.

‘For them to behave like this’, you complain … but like what?

I bet you showed you were in a sulk at the sight of the suitcases, stayed ridiculously silent, and now expect your poor husband to ‘confront them’. But what about? I’m sorry you’re fed up, but I think it’s bonkers.

Do you want your sons to feel they can’t move without asking your permission? Do you want those daughters-in-law to resent grumpy, needy old you?

Your husband’s got a bad eye and I’ve got a painful hip, but neither of us feel our offspring owe us a good time.

So you need to learn a vital lesson here. This fear of missing out might be something that you’ve had all your life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come to your senses now.

If you’re an easy-going old bird (as I hope I am) you’ll find people want to spend time with you. If you’re a moaner, they won’t. It’s a simple as that.

So I suggest you ‘heart’ all their Facebook posts and let them know the thought of them being happy makes you happy, too.

If you’re jealous, you must make yourself hide it! It’s the only way forward.

How can I face my loved ones’ death?  

Dear Bel,

I read your column every week, learn from your words and have a good life — 66, married with an adult son, happy and contented, the three of us at home together.

My family and friends regard me as a positive, glass-half-full person.

My anxiety is this: I often think of the years to come when (if life pans out as I imagine) I shall have to face the passing of my older brothers, sister and their partners — age difference 17 years. I have so much to be grateful for, yet can’t stop brooding — even though I know things cannot be predicted.

As yet, everyone is fit and well (though my parents and a beloved brother died early), but I’m ashamed to admit I’m dwelling on this before I need to. How do I accept this natural situation and its inevitability with good grace?

LAURA

It’s important not to lay every unhappiness at the door of wretched coronavirus and lockdown, but the grim situation has had a colossal impact on our mental health.

So many problems are magnified. Endless warnings and accounts of danger, doom and death put gloom at the forefront of the collective mind. Like you, I once saw that crystal glass as half full, but recently changed my mind. Not good.

What can be done about your preoccupation? Some of it may obviously date back to losing your parents and brother before time.

I know a man whose father died at the age of 52 and seems to have been permanently marked by that loss, over 50 years ago. There’s nothing for it but to work towards a philosophical acceptance of mortality.

Easier said than done? Maybe — but essential, nevertheless. I can’t possibly tell you how to live with the certainty that loved ones will die.

All I can suggest is that you start making yourself live in the moment, noticing the beauty of the world, blocking out as much of the horrible stuff as you can, and fill your glass up with something expensive and delicious, then raise it in a toast to life.

Yes life — which is all the more precious for the darkness that surrounds it.

My home feels like a wreck

Dear Bel,

I was left after a 27-year marriage, which produced two smashing children. All this time I’ve been very anxious, but have coped. I’ve now been with a partner for about 18 years.

Seven years ago we moved counties to be near my daughter when she got married as I wanted to be a hands-on nan. But the house I bought (my partner moved with me) started playing up: a bad leak under the bath, kitchen ceiling down, two years later bad flooding again, months of putting things back together.

Three years later, in the middle of lockdown, another shower leak cascaded into the kitchen.

Decoration nearly back together again but I can’t relax. Hate my bathroom. Scared. I need to speak to a counsellor — I had group therapy three years ago but it’s not helping at the moment. I should really have the bathroom ripped out, but hate work being done. I wait for the next leak and feel like moving.

MAVIS

This poor old house is leaking your tears — and surely it’s time to give it the comfort you crave yourself. Making things better for you and for your home is going to be a lot less trouble and a lot cheaper than moving house.

Running away from the problem will do you no good because even if you found yourself in a palace, I suspect sooner or later you’d notice mice or fear the boiler would break — because they generally do.

Ours packed up just before lockdown. And mice and spiders lurk. We’ve put buckets out on the attic floor because the roof needs fixing and we know the ole house is falling down (and this is shaping up like a country and western song!).

My attitude is to watch the yearly footage of flooding and give thanks that so far the river in our garden has only come within 8ft of the side door.

I wonder if virus stress has intensified the anxiety that’s a part of your personality. Were you such a worrier before your husband left you, or was that a shock from which you never fully recovered?

We can’t solve a problem if we fail to discover its origin — just as a plumber can’t fix a leak unless he or she discovers its source. Group therapy may have uncovered some truths, so you could try again, or you could resolve to fix this one all on your own.

Courage … please! Nobody likes builders in the house but it’s time to get on the case. Hire a plumber, project manage, overhaul the system — and award yourself the peace of mind to be the excellent nan you intended to be all along.

And finally… Do your bit to tackle the new normal

Some of you may know I’m a patron of the relationship support charity Relate, so I want to tell you about what could be an important initiative.

A significant study (by the University of Worcester in partnership with Relate) is seeking to understand the medium and longer-term impact of the coronavirus pandemic on family life and relationships.

If, like me, you’re feeling rather worried about the whole thing, you might even be able to do something positive to help. Over the next year, the study will discover how people’s relationships are faring as initial lockdown restrictions continue to lift and we learn to live with the ongoing threat of the pandemic.

The research will delve into the Covid-induced effects of home-schooling, living in confined spaces, living apart from loved ones, changes to working patterns and increased unemployment, dealing with poor health and bereavement, managing anxiety, uncertainty, financial insecurity, tension and conflict.

The goal is to develop new ways to support people as we navigate the ‘new normal’ (that annoying but useful phrase) and to enable us all to be better prepared to deal with any subsequent waves of the pandemic.

They want up to 1,000 participants (age 18 and over) to take part. The aim is to understand how people from all walks of life have been impacted. Here is the link: ucw.onlinesurveys.ac.uk/ families-un-locked-2020-wave1

Meanwhile, mental issues related to lockdown and the pandemic are hard for everyone, but especially for those already battling with their mental health. So a nursing friend has asked me to share the wonderful charity MIND’s 24-hour helpline: 0300 123 3393.

I’m glad to do so, because as we look towards autumn and winter, I fear for the wellbeing of the nation. Not because of the virus itself, but due to our ability to face up to it. And to a life full of everyday danger.