'Twas the Night before Mothering Sunday

It is not always an easy day, Mothers' Day. I have had my share of tricky ones. Before I had children, when I so desperately wanted them, I used to think that once I had them, all Mothers' Days would be wonderful. I would watch with envious eyes as toddlers thrust handfuls of daffodils at their smiling mothers, and inside my heart would break. I could not comprehend the pain that having children can bring. I am not undermining that pain. Nor am I suggesting that it is in any way less than the pain I have subsequently experienced. It is just different.

I would never want to return to those days, and when I recognise that longing in another woman's eyes, I ache inside, wishing I could soothe and comfort but knowing I cannot. I represent an endgame in the infertility world. The barren woman. No fruit springs forth from my loins and never shall. As such, I am not often welcome in the midst of grappling with such traumas.

And yet I am a mother:

Not flesh of my flesh,
Not bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget,
For a single minute,
You didn't grow under my heart but in it.

So are my Mothers' Days a source of constant delight and joy to me now? The best answer I can give to that is, it's complicated. There have been times I have cried harder than before. Times I would rather Mothers' Day did not exist. But there has been joy too. Today hope flickered in me as I heard from another mothers' grown up child. As this young woman chatted on the phone, I recognised adult responsibility and care in her voice. And I am so very grateful.

Tomorrow we have a family lunch planned. I shall hold onto my hope and remember my joy.

Blight

My tree could have been struck by a killer virus. It could have been eaten by locusts. It could have acquired Dutch Elm Disease except it is not a Dutch Elm. The point is I would not know. I have sadly neglected it. I have been housebound. Confined by germs. Restrained by sickness. Barricaded by bacteria. Or in other words, I have cold.

Last week I neglected my tree because of a lingering 3 day migraine. This week it is a cold. I am most displeased. My germs have long outstayed their welcome but there is little I can do to hasten their departure. I should have seen CBT bloke yesterday but had to cancel. All in all it is most unsatisfactory.

Tomorrow I am hoping for a little perambulation around the block. I am mixing my drugs with alcohol this evening in the hope of a miracle cure. If nothing else, perhaps tomorrow's walk will clear my head. My sinuses are another matter ...

Epiphanies

I have been very out of touch. My tree will not know who I am. Spring is springing all over the place and I have been missing it. This is not good.

Last week past me by in a haze of musty books, ink, paper and laptops as I typed furiously trying to get my three thousand words hammered out in time for my deadline. I did it. Just. Jeff gave me some advice. Just type 'a' a lot, Mum, no one will notice. Unfortunately it was a chance I could not take. So I wrote indifferently about the politics of kingship displayed in one particular scene in I Henry IV.

I missed my tree. I did take a walk to see if the words were written on its bark but I could see nothing. I even took photos to prove it. But sadly, the Captain deleted them before I could upload them. It is not his fault. It is mine. I have been very efficient in my uploading. Not this time. However, spending so much time in my teeny tiny university library did give me opportunity to gaze out as Spring started creeping across the lawns. The garden is beautiful. Very soon it will be a carpet of crocci. For now it is all snow drops and some dainty yellow flowers that might be celandine but I am not sure. My mother would know. But she was not with me. Anyway, this was my view as I slaved over a hot laptop. It can only have helped the thought processes, ne c'est pas?

This week I have not seen my tree much either. This is very bad. More than that. It is VERY BAD! CBT bloke would not be pleased. But he would tell me not to beat myself up about it. He would tell me that I need to accept that I cannot do all things perfectly at all times. This is easier said than done.

The week started with germs. The Captain had been generous. My bones felt like they were falling out of my skin or separating themselves from each other at the joints. It was not altogether pleasant. Then, today, I decided to wake in the wee small hours with a migraine. This really did not please me. I am much better now. A bit post-migraine ish, but ok.

Despite all that, there has been lots of good things happening. I have been sleeping - hoorah! Almost every night has resulted in at least six hours and sometimes even more. I am so relieved I could cry. CBT blokes suggestions definitely helped. I have also started listening to the cd he gave me and had an epiphanic moment (I love that word!). During a fairly ordinary ten minute relaxation the disembodied voice told me to rest my tongue behind my lower teeth. Sounds normal doesn't it? But mine has been stuck to the roof of my mouth for years. Peeling it off resulted in an audible pop and felt so strange to begin with I questioned my nearest and dearest about the resting positions of their tongues. They are used to my vagaries so did little more than raise eyebrows at my, but it seems that it is in fact normal to rest one's tongue behind one's lower teeth. Well, I must say that since doing this, and practising it, the whole of my face has felt more relaxed!

Tomorrow will definitely require a tree visit. The afternoon brings a meeting that should not be bad but will be awkward if only by association. However, the weekend is something to look forward to. We are away to a family wedding celebration by the seaside. So the Captain will get to gaze longingly at sea going vessels while I'll drink in my wide open skies. Oh, and I get to frock up. Always a joy. This Saturday, I shall be a vision in pink :o)

Writer's Block

Grrr. I have been sitting at my laptop since 7:30 this morning. I have written 458 words. About 450 of them are dross. From this you will be able to deduce it is not going well. My deadline is Thursday midday. In reality I have to complete by Wednesday 9pm. I know what to say just not how to say it. 'Tis locked in my head.

Am off to my tree. Perhaps the key is hanging on the branches?

Signs of Spring

I have returned to the parental home. I am nestled snugly on the bed in which I was born. Although now I come to think of it that is not possible as I distinctly remember that bed was discarded some years ago. Ah me, c'est la vie. So, to revise that sentence: I am nestled snugly on the substitute birthing bed, the one I was born in having been discarded previously. No one else has been born here, so it is probably not correct to refer to it as a birthing bed. But hey, I have had 3 glasses of wine therefore I do not care.

I am here to collect Jeff. He has been sojourning with his grandparents for a few days for his delectation and delight. It has also meant that Tilly has been home for a few days. Today is change over day. Many miles have been covered. Alcohol was therefore required.

I saw CBT bloke this morning. He is pleased with me. This is good. Especially as I did not do any of my previously set homework. He was pleased with the way the meeting of last week went. He was pleased with my walking. Pleased with my honesty. All in all, pleased generally. I like that he was pleased. I still have a stress management plan to complete. But I have a three week extension on that. That is also good. I have an essay due in next week and the last thing I need to stress about is a completing a stress management plan ...

Because it has been half term, and because of all the child care duties, I have not visited my tree as much as I would have liked. Yesterday I had an extended day at university. The Captain worked from home in order to release me and I was there for when the library opened and did not leave until the library closed. I was immersed in musty academia for twelve solid hours, with minor breaks for caffeine and calories. It was blissful.

During one of my caffeine breaks, I wandered around the gardens and found these:

They are not my tree. They are not a tree at all. But they are a sure sign that Spring is coming.

Budding

At last, there are visible, photographable signs of Spring on my tree. Look:


If they are not buds, I do not know what are. Granted they are small. Tiny even. But they are a start. Thank goodness. I have had enough of Winter.

I walked down to my tree at lunchtime. It was a solitary stroll. I had invited Tilly to join me but her response ran thus: 'Du-ur, like, no!' From that I deduced she was not keen. They do not call me perceptive for nothing. I did not mind. Quarter of an hour under the open sky, even with a light drizzle, is proving to be a real source of pleasure and not sharing it was fine. Although I may be developing a reputation as something of a local eccentric. I was spotted today as I grappled with branches and trunk trying to capture the perfect shot. It is not easy you know. My tree moves. But only when a the camera shutter is depressed.

Fortunately, it was just a friend who clocked me. And she already knows I'm barking. Speaking of which, did you notice the bark on that photo? No? Here, have another:


I have not yet been confronted by strangers or asked to account for my bizarre actions by the police. But I do wonder if it is just a matter of time ...?

Juggling Family

This weekend has been a chaotic whirl of dashing here and there and everywhere.

Saturday was family round one: entertaining Jeff, enjoying parents. Jeff spent the day with his best mates eating pizza, gaming and generally chilling. I spent the day introducing my parents to the delights of some of my favourite charity shops. Meanwhile, the Captain went to work. We rounded off the day with curry. Yum.

Sunday, family round two: church, packing up Jeff & parents, collecting Tilly. Perhaps one thing that should not go unmentioned is that I made it all the way through the church service! This pleased me a lot. It was not easy. I nearly bolted. The service began with a video presentation of Sam McBratney's book Guess How Much I Love You. It is a beautiful story. You can watch it here. It was Tilly's favourite story as a little girl. Listening to it made my heart ache.

After lunch the real juggling began. I drove north to Tilly's school while Jeff headed in a similar direction with his Grandparents. We met up at a local reservoir for hot chocolate and cake. The teenagers were civil, if a little edgy, with each other. Then Jeff headed further north for a few days while Tilly returned to the family seat till Thursday. It is the first time she has been home since October and it will be her longest stay since February last year.

Doing family in lots of three is strange but workable. So far, I feel relatively tranquil. I need to see my tree. I did not make it at all over the weekend and am missing it. I feel extremely maternal towards those buds I spotted and need to check on their progress. Photos will follow. Tilly may not join me. I explained about my tree. She was not impressed. Her actual words were: 'Man, that is Sad!' Then again, laughing at her sad mother is something of a hobby so you never know.

It is good to have her here.