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May 3, 2006

Coming Apart

I’ve been writing a lot about Africa lately, and not so much about what’s going on here at home. The six month anniversary of my mother’s death hit me much harder than I had expected it would, so I’ve been riding the proverbial emotional roller coaster the last few weeks. It’s been harder for me to find the humor in everyday things.

My mom’s absence still looms. I was weeding my garden the other day. The rose campion we bought together that has sat infuriatingly like a lump of stubborn green cabbage for three years, refusing to send up even the tiniest shoot, is finally blooming.

rosecamp

My first instinct was to call her, and then I remembered that she’s not there to pick up the phone. Porter’s actually been participating in his soccer games, which is a major accomplishment for him. I wish she were standing on the sidelines with all the other grandmothers, cheering him on.

This week especially I have felt like I am one step away from going totally cuckoo. My eyeballs hurt. My head has been pounding. I drink water constantly, but I stay thirsty. I haven’t even had time to have a good breakdown. The kids had physicals, soccer and baseball practices, art and drum lessons. I had to go on a field trip with the first grade and get food ready for Teacher Appreciation Week.

All week I’ve moved like a robot, mechanically fixing dinner, listening to Drew and Porter read, making sure their math sheets were done, shepherding everyone into tubs and showers, saying prayers and bestowing kisses. (Except to Porter, who is currently refusing kisses and accepting only bedtime hugs.)

Last night, as I got in bed, I vowed I’d wake up today just long enough to get the kids off to school. I’d hop back into bed with some Kleenexes and a good supply of “poor me” thoughts guaranteed to trigger the tears. This morning my alarm went off and I listened to NPR for a few moments, then trudged to the kitchen to oversee the morning routine. Finn was slumped over the counter. He looked up dully when I walked in. Everything about him said “Stuffy. Pollen. Congestion. Watery eyes. Misery. Not going to school.”

I won’t describe the next couple of hours in detail except to say that Drew and Porter went to school, Finn stayed home, and I made no effort to play the role of the loving mother. I gave him Benadryl and stuck him in his room with strict instructions not to bother me. As I shut his door in frustration, he gave me a look of nervousness and hurt. I ignored it. To emphasize my point, I put a sign on my door warning him not to bother me.

I tossed and turned in my bed, unable to sleep. After an hour, I got up and apologized to him, but I still feel guilty, on top of everything else.

It’s hard to be a good mom when you still need a mom yourself.

sleepmom

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Posted by Anne Glamore @ 2:44 pm • Deep Thoughts, Mom     add to kirtsy   Stumble it!

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  1. [...] Years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Coming Apart Posted by Anne Glamore @ 9:32 pm • Let’s Eat, Those Crazy Kids [...]

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    What I'm Reading


    I've never read any of his fiction, but his book about the craft of writing was awesome.

    Hey, I have a story in this book about how I'm not always the best mom. It's guaranteed to make you feel better about yourself, especially the part where I throw stuff at Finn.

    I'd heard a lot about this and enjoyed it, but not as much as one of my all-time faves:

    The Boys Are Loving


    I didn't think Porter would like this, but I was desperate for him to read something, so I shoved it at him and it was a WINNER.

    Hooray-- there's a sequel to the original Diary. The guys are snarfing it up.


    Porter finished all the Harry Potter books so I started him on A Wrinkle In Time, and he's enjoying it. I bought the whole set so he'd have plenty to read for the next few months.


    After finishing the Harry Potters, Drew turned to the Hardy Boys. He can't tell a story "in a nutshell," so I've heard all about the missing jalopy, and the red wig. Solve the mystery already!