Today was a good day.  We went to bed last night and it was snowing.  We woke up this morning and it was still snowing.  Not too much…not too bad for driving…thankfully.  After going through the snowsuits and boots in the closet I knew that my little bird needed a pair of boots.  I foolishly thought I would be able to get through to Wednesday, without too much trouble, in order to take a drive to a town with more of a selection.  Not so much!  The snow was so wet, if it wasn’t white it would have been rain.  By the time I got the girls from the car to the front doors of school her fuzzy boots were caked with snow and sure to be soaked by the time she went out for first lunch.  Off I went to Walmart with the twins to find some decent looking, warm, water-proof boots and enough groceries to carry us through the week if it doesn’t stop snowing. lol  Luckily, our Walmart, at this end of town, has a much better selection than the one I went to on the weekend when I began the search for boots.  I found a pair that worked for both of us, but of course, couldn’t find the size I was looking for.  As I’m searching every, single pair, another mom asks me if the boots are definitely girls boots to which I answer yes, definitely and she says, but my son could wear them too.  I laughed because I got it.  Any mom of more than one kid can relate to that.  As we were chatting I told her about when I was buying my eldest daughter’s first pair of snow pants…thinking practically, I went with black.  I figured she could get them dirty and never ruin them and regardless of which sex my next kid turned out to be, they could be passed along.  So we’re laughing and agreeing, then we start telling each other the exact same story.  We both figure out our girls need boots, we both sent the girls to school in “fashion” boots to get them there in something, we both planned on going shopping on Wednesday, we both (after seeing the weather) thought, “I can get to Walmart, grab a pair of boots for her and have them back to her in time for first break”.  It was too funny!  It was great to talk to someone right out of the blue who happened to be having the exact same experience as me.  Still unable to find the size 12 I thought I needed I spied a stash all the way up on the top shelf.  Picking through them I found a size 12 and took a size 13 – just in case – good thing too! 🙂  My new friend was also having trouble finding her daughter’s size so I told her about the hidden treasure and continued on my way.  Wrapped up the shopping and drove back to school.  Boots delivered, correct size 13, along with a couple of fuzzy scarves for my big girls (my eldest came skipping down the hall to collect her loot) just in time for outdoor break.

Driving home from school planning out the next part of my day.  Home, unpack, bathe the twins, lunch, nap, work.  Hahahahahahaha – that so didn’t happen.  We get home and it’s pretty warm out, so I decide I’ll just shovel the porch and front steps and a little bit in front of the garage.  (The twins each had a shovel and took are of some of the front lawn.  So thoughtful!)  That all goes well enough.  Moving onto baths.  Here’s where we start to lose some time.  Into the bath go two little bums.  I’m bathing them together today to get back the time I spent outside.  No sooner is my littlest girl in the water and she looks at me with the saddest little face and says “doop mommy”….Mommy says, “don’t you dare poop in the tub!”  Instantly one soaking wet toddler gets plopped onto the toilet and she snaps.  We’re just going to start potty training….I know some would say it’s pretty late, I say whatever works for you.  I’ve never been real quick to get rid of the diapers.  Sticking to pattern with these guys. So she’s sitting there and we’re having a nice long, terrified hug.  I’m trying to reassure her that she will definitely not fall in the toilet and to relax enough so she can do her thing.  She’s not having it, so back into the tub she goes.  The poor kid!  She held it while her brother got the quickest bath of his life and then she hers.  We were in and out at least twice so by the time all was said and done, we’re about an hour in – or at least that’s how long it felt.  End of the day – she did it!  Her first doop in the toilet!  I kept telling her how well she had done and that she did it even though she was scared.  Good for her!  xoxo  Love her!

Lunch went well.  Ha!  They dragged it out as long as they could.  We’re now a good half hour late getting down for nap.  We’re also getting rid of soothers.  lol  I know there are parents who would read this and absolutely die at the thought of three year olds still having a soother for sleeping.  lol  Oh well, that’s your problem and these are my kids.  So I’m starting them off with taking the soothers away in the morning and giving them back for bedtime.  Ordinarily they would lose them when they wake up, but get them back for nap and bedtime.  My little monkey is getting the hang of it no problem.  She squawked for the first day and after that she just rolled over and took her nap.  Easy peasy.  Not so much for Mr. Huggable Snuggable – he’s my bear.  No, no.  This guy decided today that he wasn’t having it anymore.  He has had naps this past week without it, but they haven’t been long and they haven’t come easily.  Today, it was not happening.  Finally after about an hour and numerous warnings of going to the “naughty spot”, I took him out of the room and in he went and there he stayed for the next hour until we went to pick up the girls from school.  Think it bothered him?  Not in the least!  Sigh…lol

I’ve been really trying to cherish this last year with my babies.  I’ve spent a lot of my time home with the kids worrying about work and where my work is going to come from and the staying home part hasn’t been as enjoyable as I would have liked due to being so stressed out all the time.  I decided that I had to let that go a bit because if I didn’t I would essentially be pissing on the gift of time I’ve been given with them by not giving the experience my full attention.  I know how important it is for me to truly enjoy this time with them so we all get the most benefit from it.  Otherwise what was the point?  I could have put them in daycare and gotten a job. So here I was with a three year old and he’s not doing what I want him to do, like at all!, but I’m not as pissed as I would have once been.  It occurred to me the other day, as I was thinking about my turtle, that it would be ridiculous for me to get mad at my kids for not doing what I want them to do, because that would pretty much be the same as being mad at them for being themselves.  That just seemed kind of shitty to me.  How can I get mad at my kids for being themselves.  Obviously they’re not always going to do what I want.  They are people, not robots.  They have good days and bad days, not to mention their own wants, needs, desires, motivations, etc.  That helped me today.  It helped me keep it together and not throw my own grown up temper tantrum – because really, who does that help?   And we all got along beautifully the rest of the day!

I remember one day talking to someone about antidepressants or some such thing…taking pills of some sort for mood regulation.  The person I was talking to described it as having everything feel flat and even, without ups and downs, kinda grey (my least favourite colour).  It sounded dreadful because that was exactly how I felt every day on my own, without pills or anything else.  All I wanted was to go back to normal, which for me is feeling lots of stuff, good, bad and ugly, but usually pretty good fun.  It seems like for the longest time I have been feeling flat and colourless.  To take something that would make me feel like that would be torture.  I seem to be moving out of that….Thank God!  The other day, I don’t know what I was doing or anything, but it seemed like something turned back on, slid back into position or whatever, it felt so good.  I felt a little flicker of something that reminded me of the girl I once was.  I used to wake up every single day with butterflies in my stomach.  I was so excited by each and every morning because every day when I got up it was a new day, there was the possibility that something amazingly fun could happen!  I loved that feeling.  I don’t know when it stopped but it sucks that it did.  Those days I was single and working my little ass off every day.  I was really good at what I did, I was full of laughter and attitude and I had the world on a string.  Nothing was out of reach for me.  It was fantastic!

Fast forward quite a few years, I met a guy (again), fought like hell to stay with him, had a kid, moved away from the city, bought a house, got married, had another kid, started a business, had two more kids, had a shit-tonne of miserable family drama and bingo, bango, bammo, completely lost my identity!  What!!!!!????  What the fuck happened?  Where did it go?  When did it go? And how the hell did I not fucking notice?  I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off for years (station break:  the creepiest thing just happened, as I’m sitting here typing this a voice out of nowhere with an English accent says “Time to turn back time”.  I just had a heart attack!) anyways, as I was saying…I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off for years, trying to look busy, trying to convince “people” (I won’t say who) that I am getting shit done.  What am I doing?  I’m cleaning my house.  That’s it.  That’s all.  It’s a joke.  It sucks.  It’s so boring!!!!!!  I hate cleaning.  I love having a clean, organized home, but I really don’t enjoy cleaning.  I had a mini-meltdown the other day so I booked myself an appointment at the business advisory centre to meet with some objective people who could either point me in the right direction or confirm that I was right with the direction I know I have to move in to move my business back into existence.  During my meeting I was talking (a lot) about what state I was currently in.  We discussed goals, goal setting, writing things down, setting smaller goals, vision boards, etc.  I also was thinking back to other conversations I’ve had with people about moving a business forward, blah, blah, and one thing that came up was motivation and keeping in mind why I’m doing the things I’m doing.  What occurred to me that day at the advisory meeting was that my motivation has been all fucked up.

I’ve been moving around doing busy work so that at the end of the day it looks like I’ve actually accomplished something.  When I clean the house, do the laundry, stock the house, bathe the kids, volunteer…you can see that.  There is physical evidence of my “productivity”.  Measurable proof that I am doing something.  Because I haven’t been working I really felt like I had to earn my keep and somehow carry my weight.  In my mind, being a mother at home with her children just wasn’t enough to make me a valuable commodity.  If I’m working and earning, then my voice counts, but if I’m not, I’m at the mercy of someone else.  I don’t like that.  I feel less than.  Not good enough.  Certainly not like I’m standing on even ground.  So I keep cleaning and shopping and working with my kids to get them ready for school, but not working on any of my own shit.

Now, it’s time.  My twins are three.  I am working with them steadily this year to get them ready for full time kindergarten in September.  They are my babies so I will admit I have babied them.  But I will also admit, I’ve babied all my kids.  I like it like that.  They get to stay small for a little bit.  I do always have them ready to face the world when the time comes though so I don’t take it too far.  Whatever!  🙂  But, like I was saying, now it’s time.  It’s time for me to shit or get off the pot.  It’s time for me to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I can, at any time, go get a job…wah, wah.  Only if I absolutely have to and if that day does come, it’s because I’m a lazy bitch and it’s totally my own fault.  So hopefully it never happens!  lol   I want to do something with my life.  I want to earn a living doing something I love, something where I feel inspired and happy, breathlessly happy.  I want to LOVE what I do.  I want to do something that others dig.  Something that other people benefit from.  I want to be someone that my kids can look at and be proud and maybe say I want to be like her…not exactly, but they might want to have some of the same qualities that I have…sheesh.  What I mean by that is that they will be inspired to do what they love even if it takes a while to start or even figure out what that is.  I used to say all the time that I wanted to do everything my Dad did.  He was stud!  He did everything.  He was self-made, he traveled all the way around the world twice, he had boats, he had his pilots license, he really lived life and did it all.  He was impressive…to me.  He used to tell me the most amazing stories about the things he had done in his life.  He was the best.  I want to be able to tell my kids stories about the cool shit I’ve done, but that’s never going to happen if I stay in this miserable little hole.

And so, it is time.  It is time to wake up.

ps…the creepy voice coming out of the darkness…my husband’s laptop, which the kids left on.

I would seriously and severely like to kick my own ass right now.  Honestly, I’m actually a pretty positive, upbeat person (for the most part).  I’ve had some stresses on my mind and I’ve put it out to the universe that I would like resolution to these stresses and low and behold, the solutions are appearing – yet I’m freakin’ miserable (today).  What the F@ck!!!!  I don’t get it.  When my world looks like it’s gone to hell in a hand basket, I’m cool.  I can see that it’s only a phase and not get too down on myself and remain fairly optimistic about the future.  However, let things start to work out and I want to cry.  Drama queen?!  Don’t know.  Timing is everything right?!

I’ve been given resolution to the debt issue.  A way to work it out and maintain things.  Yay!

I’ve been invited to test for a job that is fairly suitable to being a mom.  Yay!

Why am I miserable?  If I get this job, it means returning to work before my littlest ones start school.  Shouldn’t be a big deal.  I know.  They have stayed home a year longer that the older ones due to not starting daycare at the age of 2.  That said, I have one more year (14 months) until they start JK Full Time!  That is a big difference.  Even though my two big girls went to daycare from the age of two, they only went two days a week and their first two full years of school were also only part time.  So I had them home with me longer.  Heaven! 🙂  Now it looks like I may have to give up time with my babies and then release them to the school system with no gradual transition.  Misery!  🙁

Other than that, things are on a pretty even keel.  Have my hubby home for the summer so the whole family will have the entire summer together!  Amazing!!!!  My mom’s health has stabilized and she has settled in nicely to her new home.  Amazing!!!!  Everyone is healthy and happy and we (I) have everything in the world to be grateful, thankful and ecstatic about.

I will just have to pull my head out of my ass and appreciate everything that I have.  I couldn’t ask for a better life than the one I’ve got.

The dust seems to have finally settled somewhat and I was really feeling like I was standing on the edge of the cliff and that the fall was going to be life changing.  Essentially I feel like I have so much emotional garbage buried deep within and now is the time when it’s going to come out.  I don’t know exactly what that means or looks like.  I do know I seem to process stuff without really knowing I’m processing it.  Whatever, when it happens it will happen.  I feel like whatever needs to be released will be and when it is, my life will be infinitely better.  I feel like the dead weight that sits in the pit of my stomach and on my back will lift and I will be lighter.  Somehow I started to take another look at yoga.  I’ve never been able to get into it.  I’ve never been able to meditate or stick to trying to meditate.  I’ve barely been able to get through one yoga video in my life.  However, this time I seem to be gathering information on yoga that goes far beyond the “work out” part of it and into the spiritual part of it.  It’s mesmerizing.  I feel like the practice of yoga itself is the next big thing in my life.  That likely sounds nuts.  I’m ok with that.  It sounds kind of nuts to me too.  I feel like if I can really grasp the concept and the practice of yoga it will give me what I need to change my life, in the best possible way.  It’s exciting.

It’s exciting to know that I can decide how I respond to the events that take place in my life.  It’s exciting to know that I don’t have to always see the worst possible outcome or to get worked up over little things that don’t warrant that kind of reaction.  I love that!

So just now, I had a rare opportunity to do a little yoga as I am home alone with my twins.  They are so cute!  Instead of taking the laptop to the bedroom to do the sequence alone, I dropped down in the livingroom where they were watching a show and rolled out my mat.  The two of them came right over and wouldn’t leave me alone.  My little guy dropped down too and did the flow right along with me, beside me, on top of me.  lol  He made some of the moves a little different for me, but it was the most fun and so adorable.  How could I not love that?!

I will start this post by letting you know if you don’t like swearing or are offended by it – don’t read this.

If my house isn’t clean enough for you then don’t fucking come back.  Period.   I won’t try harder next time you just won’t be invited again.

For all those women and men out there who so happily move through their days making other people feel like shit with their endless stream of judgement passed off as harmless little comments or jokes – go fuck yourselves.

There is no reason at all for you to make the comments you make.  I didn’t ask for your opinion, nor do I want it.  I see my life and myself fairly clearly (I think) and I am pretty truthful with myself and the world about my shortcomings.  I am a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend.  I am hardworking, tireless and generous.  I work my fucking ass off keeping everyone’s shit together and if I’m not doing a good enough job for you – that’s your fucking problem.  Your nasty judgements do not and will not make it my problem.  I promise you that my standards are much higher than any you could impose on me and I feel plenty on my own that I sometimes fall short.  I don’t need you pointing it out to me.  I would never point it out to you.  Do you know why?   I would rather build you up than tear you down.  I would rather point out a positive to you than a negative.  I won’t lie to you or shield you from truths that you may really need to know.  However, if I have something to say that will only serve to hurt you or cause you pain, I will keep it to myself.  I am not a nasty bitch.  Even though I have often been called one.

We are our own worst critics.  It is true.  We are so hard on ourselves, needlessly.  I bet that the people who move through their lives ripping other people apart feel worse about themselves than anything and that the comments they make to others are only a glimpse of how they view themselves.  I guarantee that each time you make someone else feel bad you end up feeling worse about yourself.  I bet that the track that rolls through your mind of negative self-talk gets louder and more abusive.  I wonder though, what would happen to you if instead of making someone else feel bad, you made an effort to make them feel better.  Especially if you know they are going through a hard time or having a bad day or even better, if you yourself are having a bad day.  I bet again, that you might end up feeling better about yourself and maybe, just maybe that negativity that lives in your heart will lighten a bit.  You might even one day feel good.  Holy shit!  That would be awesome!

Every effort that we make in our lives no matter the task or situation is absolutely perfect.  We can do no better and no worse because for that exact, precise moment in time that is the exact effort we are capable of.  So try to see yourself as perfect and enough at all times.  And try to be as forgiving and compassionate to others.  We are all doing our best even if that doesn’t always appear to be good enough.

Sorry for the rant at the beginning, kinda, but not really.  The catalyst to this post is a dear friend of mine and she is struggling and she’s too nice to put you people in your place.  So from me to you and on behalf of anyone else who is too nice to tell you to your face.  Please keep your opinion to yourself.  Stop making other people feel bad.  I am not afraid to tell you off and will gladly do it again.

Right now my husband isn’t speaking to me.  He isn’t speaking to me because of my behaviour.  I brought my mother home tonight from her residence for dinner and a visit.  During her visit she took a phone call from one of her sisters.  This particular sister happens to be storing the majority of my mother’s belongings and for about a month, prior to my mom getting really sick and moving in here, I was trying to coordinate with her sister when it would be ok for my husband and myself to drive the two hours to pick up my mom’s things.  After trying unsuccessfully for over three weeks, at which point we could no longer complete the move due to my husband’s surgery, my aunt finally deigned to take a phone call from me and then proceeded to come unhinged.  She lost her temper with me and was pretty nasty, then she hung up. (*Seems like people lose it on me a lot these days)  Since then, we haven’t spoken and I have tried to discuss with my mother what she wants done with her things.

The reason I got upset is because my mom, yet again, refuses to stand up for me.  I know it’s stupid.  I’m a grown-ass woman with a bunch of kids of my own.  I really don’t need my mommy to fight my battles for me.  That’s not what this is about.  What it is about, is that my entire life, my mother has not once stood up for me.  She’s never defended me, even when I’ve been confronted with situations way beyond my control, my fault, my anything.  She stood there while I was verbally attacked by a grown woman when I was about 8 years old.  She stood there when I was physically assaulted by her then-boyfriend and then when we went to court she told the crown that I was lying.  I was 17 when this happened and it’s the reason that I left home.  Conveniently, she doesn’t remember this.  These are just a couple of examples that come to mind.

I’m sure I sound like a spoiled little brat.  I don’t mean to.  I basically was just having a childish moment, as an adult.  Since my mom has been so ill, I’ve been feeling like anger is an emotion reserved for people who have the luxury of time.  I know I’m running out of time with my mom and I don’t want to feel any residual anger from my childhood.  Today’s bit of rage took me completely by surprise.  I am somewhat ashamed of myself for not being passed this piece of our history.  I am ashamed of the way I dealt with my emotional response.

So, once I got upset, I went quiet.  That’s what I do.  I no longer throw hissy fits or scream and yell.  I simply shut my mouth and go within and try to work out what I’m going through.  Admittedly, tonight, I had to seethe a little bit before I was able to calm down and come back to the conclusion that getting angry now isn’t going to change the past.  During the drive with my mom back to her residence I contemplated confronting her with my feelings.  Thankfully, I didn’t.  I kept it to myself and felt a bit regretful that our evening didn’t end on a better note.  Once I settled down further, I decided I may bring it up to my mom, another day, in a much calmer manner and in a way that conveys to her that my anger is a by-product of my childhood pain.  Not in a way that will make her feel bad, that’s not my goal, just in a way that lets her know this is how I’ve always felt.  I want her to know that there was a reason for my poor behaviour and that I’m not just a bitch.

I chose not to explain my behaviour to my husband because he does not seem to be able to see my point of view or believe that I have a right to my feelings.  If it’s something he doesn’t understand, which he really can’t because he doesn’t know all of my history, then he just says I’m a bitch and immediately thinks the worst.  I really didn’t feel like defending myself to my husband about a relationship that has developed the way it has over the past 37 years.  Quite frankly I was embarrassed of the way I behaved.  My relationship with my mother is complex and it is one that I still haven’t quite figured out.  The downside is that his opinion of me has been reduced further still.

You got twenty bucks?  Lol  I know you would get it even if no one else who ever reads this does.  It’s written to and for you alone.  I was surprisingly sad to hear that you had passed away.  You may be surprised to know I even cried, quite a bit for me.  🙂

Sincerely, I am sad to see you go.  I know we never had the best or easiest of relationships, but it was a very long standing relationship regardless.  Long after I thought you were out of the picture, I was walking down Yonge Street one day and heard a car horn blast.  Instantly the thought went through my mind, “God, that sounds like Arnold”.  I looked, and sure enough, it was you.  Years after I had last seen you.  I thought it was pretty funny, but that’s just me.

Because of you being a part of my life, I immediately bought all of the cds I could find(for my kids (and myself :)) that combined stories with the music of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven.  My girlfriend told me about Vivaldi and I bought that one too.  The point is you weren’t the only one who tried to introduce me to classical music and expand my horizons, but it was your tapes in the car that made it tolerable and later as I got older, something I love and cherish.

I know you loved my mom, truly.  I am sorry your love for her wasn’t more appreciated and respected.  I am sorry it wasn’t genuinely reciprocated.  I felt a little heartbroken when I heard you has passed because I really believe you died from missing her.  I know that sounds crazy, but I’m not the only who had that thought.

You weren’t always the easiest person to be around, but I know there were parts of you that were really quite nice.  I feel certain that I missed out on some fascinating and remarkable conversations by not getting to know those parts of you.  I’m sorry that was the case.  I didn’t really hate you.  I’m not that kind of person.  You might have even liked me a little bit if you had had a chance to get to know me.  Two people misunderstood.  It’s a shame.  I’m trying to change.  I think I can.  I intend to.

I’m sorry to see you go.  I hope you find happiness now.

Love

My mom is dying.  It’s heartbreaking.  I had to get out of bed to come and get it out because I feel scared.  I feel so incredibly sad.  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what I can do for her.  I don’t want her to die.

Her decline has been so rapid.  Or at least, that’s how it seems.  When I think back over the years maybe it’s been happening for some time now.  I don’t know.  I know that she had a dramatic weight loss about two years ago.  My twins were newborns when she showed up at my house and looked like she had lost about 40 pounds, which is a pretty dramatic change.  She told us she had gotten some type of blood poisoning or something strange from some sort of burning that occurred at her job. For some reason she was unable to smell the toxins burning around her and inhaled the fumes for an unknown period of time.  After that happened she never really seemed to bounce back.  I was concerned about her, but I was still feeling very angry and betrayed by her so I kept my concern to myself.

I worry and wonder about how she is feeling.  Not physically because I’m constantly asking her if she’s ok, but emotionally. I worry about her feeling sad, scared and alone.  I worry about her feeling unloved.  I’m afraid she may feel that way.  I wish she knew how much I always loved her.  When I was a little girl she was my whole world.  I wanted to be just like her.  I wished I could look like her.  Of course my colouring is the exact opposite of hers.   I always wanted her to love me.  I wanted her to be proud of me.  I want to know now what she thinks when she is looking at me.  I wanted her to take care of me and protect me and stay with me.  I wanted to be important to her.  I suppose I know that I was important to her in a way.  I am her child so I was her responsibility to an extent.  She took me places with her and there were times when I know she was happy to be with me.

Then there is everything else.  The decisions and choices she made in her life that had nothing to do with me or my well being.  Things she said to me, names she called me.  I always thought I was never good enough for my dad, but that wasn’t the case.  I don’t think that she thinks that either.  But there has always been something.  I don’t quite know what.  Something between us that kept us apart.  I don’t know.

When I think about my relationship with her I ultimately think about my relationship with my eldest daughter.  I think about the ways that I react to my big girl that I inherited from her.  I hate it.  I want to die thinking that I behave in any way that makes my little girl feel like I feel.  I worship my children.  My first born is the reason my life is the way it is today.  She is the reason for everything good I have ever done.  I am so amazed by her.  I could literally lay down and kiss the ground she walks on.  She is smart, sweet and beautiful.  She has always been wildly independent – since the day she was born.  She must think I am terribly disapproving.  I have such high expectations of her because she blows my mind.  I never had a kid before her so I don’t know what they’re supposed to be like.  Then when she acts like a kid I get exasperated.  That’s pretty stupid of me.  I am trying to change.  I’m letting go of things that are so not important.  I’m letting go of needing to control every little thing they do.

I want my kids to look at me and see a soft, loving mommy.  I want them to look at me and be able to see on my face exactly how much I love them.  How I live for them.  I don’t want them to look at me and see what they see now.  A mother who is always busy doing something and miserable about it.  A constantly furrowed brow, constant irritation.  I want love to take over my life so there is no room for any negativity.  I want to be the kind of mother who’s children know, like they know their own names, that they are thoroughly and completely loved for every ounce of who they are, exactly as they are, unconditionally, no exceptions.

A lot has happened since I’ve last had a chance to sit down and put my thoughts together.  I still can’t quite put my thoughts together so if this seems a bit wonky there is a reason for that.  My mother-in-law moved in, lived here, did her best to ruin my marriage and then moved out.  Thank God!  Once she moved out the general feeling between myself and my husband was that hopefully things would improve and we could pick her up for sleepovers and barbeques and go back to having fun, short-lived visits.  The exact opposite of that happened.  She ended up renting an apartment with, of all people, my mother.  Can you imagine!?  Obviously, since you don’t know all the players here this might not actually sound like that bad an idea, but let me assure you, it was one of the worst.  Two days after my mom got to the apartment they were to share my mother-in-law was calling and telling me I had to get her out of there, quite rudely, I may add.  Long story short, my husband confronted her mildly on her rudeness and the next time she saw me she went on an absolute tirade and threatened me viciously.  That was the end of our relationship.  Whether or not it is the end for real remains to be seen, but depends entirely on my husband and his feelings about her.

The real issue now is my mom.  Last summer, I might have mentioned it before, she became ill and ended up in hospital a couple of times.  She has had diabetes for years now and last summer told me they had diagnosed her with congestive heart failure.  Around the same time, they advised her that her kidneys weren’t fully functioning, she had about 30% kidney function.  After a couple of very strained and distant years in our relationship, the congestive heart failure made me realize I didn’t want her to pass away with this huge distance between us so I started to let her back into my life.  We’ve had visits since and she spent Christmas with all of us.  I really didn’t know how sick she has been.  When I went to pick her up to move her up here, I was picking her up from hospital.  Again, I still didn’t know how sick she was.  All she told me is that she went to hospital because she was having some trouble breathing.  The hospital discharged her and claimed she was stable.  Five days later I had her back in hospital.  The first day she was in emerg here at our local hospital they said she had about 20% kidney function.  The next day they advised her that she would be starting hemodialysis immediately and that this was going to be permanent.  By the time she was discharged this time (about 10 days), she had started dialysis and was in end stage renal failure.  A week after being released she went to the hospital for her scheduled dialysis treatment and forgot why she was there.  Once we finally found her two and half hours later, after calling a code yellow at the hospital, she returned for her treatment.  Excellent!  She came back, had dialysis and went home again on the bus.  Problem was she couldn’t remember where she lived.  Eventually, after I don’t know how long wandering around in -15 degree weather, she called me and told me she was lost.  My husband was able to direct her to knock on someone’s door so she could get inside while I went to go find her.  After that we decided that it wasn’t feasible for her to continue to live with his mother.  I wasn’t welcome in the apartment and my mom wasn’t able to live unassisted.  So we moved her in here.

I will admit that I have been overwhelmed by this string of events.  It’s quite a lot of work to suddenly be in the position of having to organize someone’s entire life with no knowledge of how things worked before.  She has appointments 6 out of 7 days in the week.  That’s just her, that doesn’t include appointments, activities and parties for my kids or appointments for my husband who just underwent a second surgery, his follow up or his continuing treatment.  I haven’t been able to go to work since she came up here because of all that has happened and at this point, I can’t leave her alone so I can go back to work.  Her life and affairs have now become my full time job.  I have so much information to gather and am spending so much time on the phone, my husband and kids are suffering because I am not that available to them right now.  That hurts me.  On the other hand, as much as I want to be with and there for them, I also want to be with and there for my mom.

I always thought I was super close with my mom, all my life growing up.  I wouldn’t have thought there was another mother-daughter duo closer than us.  Then, when I was 27 or so, I decided I needed to change some things in my life.  I began seeing a medical intuitive.  I have never been one to be terribly open to traditional therapy and this seemed like something I could get into.  During one of my first meetings with her she asked me about issues I had with my mother.  I was completely baffled.  I had always believed that any issues I had stemmed from my relationship with my father.  What was she talking about?  She was wrong.  Or maybe not.

There had been the beginning of separation between us when I began dating my husband.  Everything I had ever done up until then, my mom had been there.  Not as much when I was a teenager because I wasn’t about to take her clubbing with me.  But before that, I used to skate and she was always there, with me and my friends and then later on, once I was living on my own and going more to restaurants than clubs, she would be there with me also.  Until I met my husband there had been no real serious relationships that could come between me and my mom.  Once we started dating I wanted to spend more of my time with him than with her.  I guess that’s when the cracks started to show.  First came the question from the intuitive.  Strange!  Then, the odd remark would be made.  I always thought people were crazy.  My mom was an angel.  The best person ever.  As I tried to learn about myself and maybe figure out why I was the way I was, I tried to pull away from her a bit so I could do it on my own.  She was there for everything and this was something that I didn’t want her there for.  I needed to get to know my own motivation and the reasons why I behaved in certain ways.  The learning I was doing was very personal and I wasn’t comfortable sharing that with her.  I ended up bringing her along, which I resented.  My own fault.  I decided to take a workshop on Reiki.  I brought her along.  Then she came along for the second level training.  During our course, we did group treatments on each other for practice.  When we were walking home on the first day, she informed me that while I was being treated, I mentally “kicked her out” of a certain area and she disregarded my request.  She quite frankly told me “I figured I’m your mother, so I kept going anyway”.  Hmmm….ya, that doesn’t sit well with me.  The divide became a little bigger and the level of distrust crept up.

When I look back now, after 10+ years of looking at myself and my behaviours etc, I feel that on some very basic level I have always held a deep belief that it was incredibly unsafe to be open about my feelings.  Not my thoughts.  People who know me know I am ridiculously forthcoming with my opinions.  I’m working on that, by the way.  No need for everyone to know every little thought I have.  But when it comes to my feelings I knew I was very vulnerable if anyone were ever able to see how much I feel.  I could never expose myself like that…not even with my mom.

So now, I come to the hardest part of this current chapter of my journey.  I am taking care of my mother.  I am watching her face her mortality.  I can’t talk to her about it.  I want to.  I try.  But how do you ask someone to tell you how they’re feeling?  About dying?  If I’ve never felt safe truly exposing my identity to her, how can I expect her to expose her thoughts and fears to me?  There are things I want to ask her or ask her to do.  It’s not really my business though.  I want her to really look at her relationship with my brother.  I want her to give him some resolution.  They don’t speak.  His life appears to be quite unsatisfying.  I think it’s pretty safe to say there is a direct correlation between his life and his relationship with her.  I believe my brother is one of those people who never moved past his childhood.  Maybe none of us have, some of us just hide it better.  What do I know?  Nothing!  I’m certainly not trained in any way.  It’s just my opinion.  The only thing I know is that I have been lucky enough to have gained some perspective and have been able to expand and change my thought processes.  I’ve been lucky enough to learn from my experiences and also from the people I’ve been involved with and have involved in my life.  Probably, I’ve learned the most from becoming and growing into a parent.  I find it quite sad to see the relationship between them.  I don’t know if it would help either one of them at this point, but could it hurt?

It’s funny to have spent so much time trying to separate myself so that I could figure my own stuff out, only to end up back with this woman, living with her, in what most would call a complete role reversal.  Not so much for us.  I’ve taken care of my mom in many instances during our time together.  I’ve generally behaved more like the mother than the daughter.  I want to do everything I can to help my mother during this time.  I want to make this process less scary for her and get her the medical help she needs as well as the emotional support she needs.  I am doing everything I can do make sure that happens.  I hope my family will forgive me the time I am taking away from them to give to her.  I hope we have a lifetime together for me to make it up to them.  I love them all so much!  I know they’re not really suffering irreparably.  I just hate to take any time away from them.  I need to spend this time with her and I need to see it through to the end.  I know I have had many lifetimes with my mother, in a variety of relationships.  I also feel that this is my final lifetime with her.  I feel like I am done with this sacred contract and ready to move on.  There is a part of me that is so sad to feel that way.  I love my mom very, very much.  There is another part of me that is just done.  I’m done with the dynamic and the energy.  I don’t feel like I owe her anything more.  I hope I do her justice and honour her throughout the rest of her life.

It’s so complicated.

I have received a few comments and I do not mean to not reply so please accept my apology.  I do seem to have a problem knowing what comments are actually meant for me and which ones have been mistakenly directed to this website.  All comments are deeply appreciated, I find it quite incredible really.  If I don’t respond directly to a comment it could just mean I wasn’t sure it was for me.  Thank you to anyone and everyone who has made a comment.  I hope to see more in the future.

Best wishes!