Family Easter Feelings

I haven’t been writing of late because our home is full. And fun. And full, did I say that?   All of our children are here plus extras and I am loving it.  At night, dinner time has stretched itself to ten plates.  Sometimes I wonder how they will be filled, but funnily enough, there is always enough and even a bit for a second helping.  And everyone loves it,  and we laugh and we eat, and all that really matters is that we are together.  My youngest daughter and I also use this opportunity to abuse board game my eldest son who is visiting for the Easter period.  We have NO shame in manipulating him into playing a game, and you’d not be sure of who the youngest is based on the firm footedness of retorts, raucous laughter and squeals when winning *mostly describes me*.

We love any opportunity to be together and as my son said well, he was happy to be home, and that we are a clan and this Mother Hen, at that point, could have clucked around them a thousand times more than she already had been. The Easter weekend promises more of this, and we are excited about chilling away slightly away from day-to-day pressures.  Don’t worry, as a mental illness aficionado, I’ll keep my worry level on light to panic, if the cookies are finished before the time.  I said relax not lose my mind, tosses hair.  But if I’m honest, the worry level has been boiling for some time.  For example when my son arrived over a week ago, I crushed cried hugged him when he arrived but immediately felt the sadness of meeting him at the airport. It meant that he didn’t live at home, that he was going back at some point, and being the girl scout mom that I am, I prepare. Particularly emotions.  I pre-cry.  It does NOT impact on the eventual cry (like when he leaves) but at least I would have diminished the tear stock slightly.

Also, as if on cue, I generally start to feel terrible ahead of key times / dates / holidays.  It’s almost as if I’ve been trained to be this way.  When I was little holidays, however short, including weekends it became, were always celebrated with far too liquid diets and accordant drama…. So ahead of anything family related, my stomach cramped, my head ached, and I just wanted to sleep.   And I feel the same way now, my training suggesting that something terrible is about to happen and that I needed to be prepared for that something too.   That’s a very hard thing when you don’t know what the something is, and the appropriate level at which to cry.  Being the mother I am and ready to share with everyone, I instead cry profusely so every possible something is covered in wet prayer.

So while I am trying, today I have decided that I am going to stay in my pj’s, leave the dishes in the kitchen and the washing in the machine.  Every other day I am consumed in cleaning up and being efficient when I think right now what is important, is being kind to myself and savouring time with my children. I think I also need to think about what is REALLY important and what is unrealistic and not to push myself.  I don’t know. I’m feeling a lot muddled and a lot like I need a pre-cry.  What do you do when you feel like this?  Be part of those who support us as opposed to those who don’t.  I am 4 M’s Bipolar Mom.

A Time of Renewal

A weekend from now Easter will be celebrated around the world and although we may not all “celebrate” I always think there’s time to renew, refresh and be grateful for what we have.  I must however point something out that as a person with chronic “invisible” illness and a mother, I’ve been struck by the difficulty in actually telling the Easter story and admire those who have told it so well. I do not mean to be blasphemous but cousin, if I tried to explain that a dude escaped but nothing was moved and his clothes were still there back in the day with Bipolar, gesticulating wildly, pausing to try to remember my train of thought, and possibly crying a little, I can imagine the looks I would receive as I walked to the cast out / leprosy section of society.

Similarly, I have had a multitude of children under five (who my husband and I created) look up at me inquiringly, asking for clarification on different parts of the story.  What does the Easter Bunny have to do with it? Was the Easter Bunny the pet back then? Mother mumble.  Second question:  they first hurt him a lot and then loved him and wanted to be his friend? Shocked little faces. And before my philosopher but practical eldest son could unpack ANYTHING further, I looked SO excited and said guys, let’s go make play dough!  But we were still talking about… NO. Did Mom say that you can sprinkle as much flour as you want?  And we all excitedly went to the colourful muck that was MUCH better than the mess of a conversation I didn’t want to have.

My Philosopher Son is coming on Saturday for a bit of a break. To reconnect and to finally have his 21st Birthday.  My heart in preparation is so anxious, so excited, so happy and so sad.  What do you tell the most precious cargo you’ve ever had that you are so so so sorry about the times you hurt them when you didn’t mean to.   That you are equally sorry about the times I couldn’t get up, although a quiet voice inside me screamed that I should.  That he and his siblings are the most beautiful, amazing souls despite and in spite of the contributions that I had and had not made.  That I wished him the kind of happiness that would be felt and remembered in each of his cells and signed in his soul. That he deserved the kind of peace I had never truly known.  Because he had always given pieces of that to me.

In anticipation of his arrival and Pet Bunny weekend next weekend, I am doing what my grandmother did, sneak off to the room to have a little cry.  To be flooded with the memories of his life, his support, his little frown, his enquiringness.  The fact that he watches National Geographic Deep Sea stuff because it cheers me up.  That he has annoying habits like tickling me (but we signed a contract against this now) and holding me.  In anticipation of all of this, I am grateful for the opportunity of renewal, to try things again, and perhaps google answers to those pesky questions before they’re asked by anyone again.  Be part of those who support us as opposed to those who don’t.  I am 4 M’s Bipolar Mom.