I find it amazing that our children no nothing about us as people, only as parents. As an adult, I look at my mom and I am able to see her as a person, not just a mother. Yet, there are parts of her with a big "Children Do Not Enter" sign blocking entry. What was she like when she was younger? What made her laugh, made her weep? What were her hobbies, things that brought her joy? What was it she was trying to drown with the alcohol? My son knows nothing of me - what my dreams are, what haunts me, what causes me to laugh out loud or break out in song and dance. I am nothing but his mom and in his teenage world, that title is of little value. Parents' hearts beat, just like their children. Their eyes leak tears, just like their offspring. I am in the middle, both a child and a parent. There is overlap, definition is blurred. Somewhere, there in the mix, I find the gifts of each and offer up my gratitude for the incredible experience of love being a mother and a child has given me.
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I am sure that there is no one who is exempt from having a bad day. When I find myself in the midst of one, it is difficult for me to write. I feel like dirty laundry has been thrown on top of the words that I want to say. My mind tells me that I cannot write unless it is something profound. This, of course, is just another ploy that my perfectionist persona uses to keep me from writing at all. There is nothing wrong with having a bad day - it cannot be sunshine and lollipops all the time. If this were the case, we would cease to appreciate the sunshine and lollipops, probably getting quite sick of them. We need the gray skies and sugarless treats to help us appreciate their opposites. We need balance in our lives and that includes being aware of the fact that the bad days are temporary, just like the rain, which washes everything clean. Our bad moods can cause us to step back and take a look at that pile of dirty laundry that is covering up the sunshine. We may sit looking at it for awhile, but once we have given it a little attention, we can feel good about throwing it in the washer, giving it it's own rain shower and washing ourselves clean.
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I want to wish all the mother's out there a "Happy Mother's Day!" I have always said that being a mom changed my life and even though that seems obvious, it was such a profound change that it rocked me to my core. I thought that I could never have children, so when I found out I was pregnant, I was definitely not prepared. I was not married, although I was in love but in no way in any position to have a child. I was mad at myself for getting pregnant while I was in such a flux state of being, and afraid that I would end up carrying on the tradition of the "single" mom in my family. I moved 13 times from the time I found out I was going to have a child until my son was a little over a year old. Ultimately, I did end up being a single mom for several years but the bottom line is, it does not matter what happened, I could not imagine a life without my son. If someone said to me that I could go back and do it over, without my son and the difficult things that I experienced, I would not hesitate to say no. I would not change a thing if it meant I would not be a mom.
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I have decided that status quo can cause fatigue. I feel so tired just thinking about the fact that tomorrow will be the same as today, as it was yesterday and will be the day after tomorrow. The thought of the daily routine washes over me like dirty rain water - gray, sludgy, dull. Although organization was once my preferred religion, lately I have become somewhat disillusioned by it's rigidity. I find myself feeling constrained, bound by the ties of habit. Colors show up in the form of change, where a slip in the pattern reveals a patch of brightness. I hold that patch up to my face and breathe deeply in the freshness, exhaling only to take another long breath. Something long buried within stirs as it recalls the colors, the vividness of life, when gray was a choice, not a requisite, when the act of creating was enough to color the world in bold tones as life announced itself, shimmering in all it's brilliance.
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