Difficult Days

I am grateful for frustrating difficult days, after a bout of complaining that is.

They push me out my comfort zone, engage passionate debate, intentional action and motivates change, in order create pockets of excellence and growth. Or maturation as my mother likes to say.

I allow the frustrating moments to happen once, then I need to do something about it or stop complaining.

Complaining without action is clutter resulting in complacency.

Frustration without focus is stagnation resulting in disengagement.

Turn the Negative ranting energy into motivation for improvement or turn away.

Mom – Me

Mom – Me

The relentless tug of war between Mom and Me.

I love being a mom, yes, even despite my ranting and wobblies for public consumption. Read Road trippin flippin rage, Let’s all go to the beach or Time Out. On second thought, maybe don’t read them. You might get the wrong impression of me, or if you are still on the fence about starting a family, this may push you off.

I am there for every sneeze, every oweee, every tear, every complicated existential unanswerable life questions thrown at me on the 8 minute morning school run such as,

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Today is Sunday

Today is Sunday

It’s Sunday. I’m sitting in my car while Ava-Jane is snoring softly in her car seat and the boys, Aiden and Tebs, are playing loudly on the Highbury fields. Screeching like cats is probably more accurate. Today is Sunday which means it’s another Showhouse which means dear Zama, bless her, is cleaning up the house while I try entertain the troop. It’s funny, when you are home all weekend you want to go out, but when you have to be out your house, all you want to do is be home. Today is Sunday after all.

Today is also Mother’s Day. Which means all restaurants and coffee shops are going to be overbooked and overpriced. Thankfully the weather is playing ball so here we find ourselves at the Highbury fields yet again for the third Sunday in a row. Simple, cheap entertainment. Well it would have been if I had remembered to pack the picnic lunch. Grr. A quick nip out to KFC sorted that out. The boys who were throwing a rugby ball around have now settled down on the picnic blanket for some serious Captain Underpants comic book creations. It’s only taken an entire ream of paper and my lifetime supply of staples (that have moved around with me for the last 12 years), as well as some tears and tantrums of course to get this project off the ground. Last night, after the fifth time of writing the same cover for them I suggested I create a template cover in dark Koki pen for him to trace. This took some explaining and convincing Aiden that this was indeed the way to go.  He has his own ideas and was not coming to the table. At 11pm at night he was slow to come round to the idea. I on the other hand was so tired my eyes were too sore to blink. Dammit hell I was not going to write one more “The adventures of Captain Underpants. The 1st epic novel by Dan Pilkey” cover. I refused. Queue tears and tantrums. When the light bulb came on that he could trace his own covers, all smiles again. He also had the Captain underpants movie on playback, pausing after each sentence trying to copy it in his books. At last count he was on 13 books. Its always all or nothing.  I suggested, as he has 10 of the novels, that he just copy the words in the book or better yet make up his own stories. Again, tears and tantrums. He was defiant and adamant it was his way or no way. But with some perseverance,  he seems to have found his groove. Along with Tebs of course.

So last night I managed to get one child to sleep by 7pm. Yay!
The other child went to bed on the wrong side of 11.30pm. Drat!

One child woke up well after 8am and then carried on dozing on and off. Yay!
The other woke up at 5.30am coughing and moody. Drat!

Essentially this means that in the last 24 hours, there was only a gap between Midnight and 5.30am that no one was yelling Mom at 35 second intervals.

Now usually I would launch into a whimsical, anecdotal recount of how the little buggers plotted my demise, but not today.

Not today. Not this Sunday. Not this Mother’s Day.
Today is Sunday and my heart is heavy.

Last night a Mother lost her child. The day before Mother’s Day.
Another Mother is dealing with a child with a disability, another a degenerative disease.
Another Mother is trying to raise a family with her own disability
Another Mother is mourning the loss of her father.
Another is mourning the loss of a Motherhood that will never be
Another Mother is hustling to keep a roof over the family’s head
Another Mother just had her third baby.
Another Mother just found out she is expecting her third.
Another Mother is loving someone else’s children as if they were her own
Today is another mother’s first ever Mother’s Day.

 

Like other Mothers today, I am tired, a bit ratty, at times feeling overwhelmed or underappreciated. I swing between moments of pure joy and aching sadness.
But today ,above all else, I am feeling;

Grateful.

Grateful first and foremost to be Aiden & Ava’s Mother. 
Grateful for their health and for my own
Grateful for their tears and tantrums, which means they feel intensely about things that matter to them. 
Grateful for their defiance which means they have have their own strong willed opinions.
Grateful for their crazy all-night projects which means they have an imagination and passion
Grateful for the bedtime struggles which gives me an opportunity to talk to them, one on one quality time
Grateful that my children can yell my name all day long which means they are home with me and I am there for them

I am grateful that my challenges seem insignificant in light of what other warrior Mother’s face.

And I am
Grateful for my Mother, who I credit for making me the Mother I am today.

Saying “Happy Mother’s Day” didn’t quite cut it today, the way my heart feels right now. I dedicate this blog to all the Mothers out there. Know that you have touched my life, and others I am certain, in some way whether it be gratitude, perception, inspiration, support or unconditional love.

Thank you.
From a grateful Mother