In our house

Spring has not sprung.  Just a few weeks ago we were forecasted to have 20 cm of snow.  It's cold, the heater is chugging away eating my oil, and although we brave the weather for the snow free playground, we still grit our teeth through the icy winds and wish for gloves when riding our bikes.

This weather really draws out the grumpy in me.  While the rest of Canada is eating outside, wearing shorts, having evening walks and even sprinkler play, we are suffering October like temps and watching our summer pass by quickly.

The grumpy mood means I have energy to burn and that usually translates into projects. E asked for a sandbox (despite it being too cold to go out and play with it) but it was a chance to do something.  We ran to the local hardware store, I framed up a quick 4X4 design, she sat in it and declared this was big enough.  I loved that she wanted to carry her own wood...as heavy as it was...to the cash.  We bought the $5 planks, 5 bags of sand, and a tarp and in just 20 mins we had a sandbox.  My body took quite the beating dragging in 5 20kg bags of sand but it held up nicely which was a really good test for me to see how I've healed.

Once inside I was still itching so I decided to install the closet maid closet organizer I had bought months ago.  Well long story short, the closet was too small by 2 feet so I ended up demolishing a wall of built in shelves and expanding the entire thing.  By midnight I was hanging up the last of my clothes in my new closet and my body ached and screamed to lie down.  It actually handled the beating quite well, sore but not stiff and dangerous.  I think this might signal my ability to start walking and working up to running.

Yes it's a made up holiday by greeting card companies and florists.  Yeah I get that, it's a lot of expectation with usually little results, but it's a day to recognize all that mothers do for their kids and families and you know what? It's really nice.  Because in the day to day grind it's easy to forget that a simple "thank you, I appreciate you," goes a long way to re-fueling the tanks after weeks if not months and years of broken sleep, puke catching, birthday parties for kids we can't pick out of a line up, messes everywhere, school work, lunch boxes, snowsuits, potty training, diapering, feeding, colic, activities, curfew breaking, bath time, hours of Dora's voice, and only having band-aids with cartoon characters on them.

Add to that if you have a child with special needs, health issues, or learning disabilities and the list grows.  If you are a single parent, that list is solely and squarely on your shoulders day in and day out.

Twice I had taken the kids out like I normally do before a holiday to see if they wanted to buy anything from the mall for me, both times they had no desire.  Fine, money saved I didn't need trinkets anyway.  Then this morning I wake up and my sons attitude is sour.  He tells me that everyday is Mother's Day in his sour tone and decides he isn't making today anything to write home about.  In fact he isn't even coming to our mothers day luncheon planned, he locks himself in his room.  I can't help it, I start to cry.  I tell him in no uncertain terms that no, everyday is not Mother's Day, in fact no day is my day and won't be for a very long time.  I cry openly, he's hurt me.  The kids have no desire to give me the cards they made in school, they don't care to make breakfast in bed, they gloss over the day as if it's nothing. I take a long shower where I can cry,

At church the minister gives a little children's sermon on Mother's Day and why it's special,  I can see he realizes a little about what today is, I can see he's sorry I am sad but he doesn't have words for what he is feeling so nothing is said.  He never apologizes, never tries to make amends, doesn't acknowledge much about my feelings.  I spend the rest of the day taking them to the park, feeding them, cleaning up, giving permission for slushies, applying sunscreen and offering cold bottles of water after fun in the sun.  They get baths, fight, complain, I send them to bed.  Then I go back downstairs and cry again.

I cry because I try but maybe I'm getting it wrong.  I cry because they have no idea the weight I am carrying on my shoulders, no idea the hurdles I've already gone through and what's next.  No idea how much I shelter them from.  They just know that sometimes mom doesn't let them go to the park, mom makes them do homework they hate, mom is the one who lays out the discipline so she's never good cop, mom says no to a dog, and mom makes them eat meals that they don't really like.

I feel like a failure when my kids find no joy in thanking me for being their mom.  It just really makes me feel like I'm getting this wrong.

The kids are back from their visit and we are settling down.  As usual we are navigating strong feelings, lots of questions, some concerns, and re-settling back into a regular routine.  I'm a strong advocate in making sure there is status quo in our household so returning home is not met with lax rules and celebrations, I find the best way to get everyone off their shaky ground is to keep things the same.  School continues, no days off just because I missed you, chores start right back up, schoolwork that was neglected is made a priority again, and I give them space to be in their rooms and with their things which at their age is very comforting.

I love my burst of new found energy after my small break.  That combined with more sun and less snow (still some, it's snowing right now), means that we go out and do more, expel more energy, be more active.  It means that like tonight their heads hit the pillow and they are asleep before the last page of the book is read.  

An exciting venture for me is that I've recently found a pen pal in Croatia and we have agreed to do handwritten letters to bring back the art of it.  The concept makes me very excited especially knowing my nanny had a pen pal in England during the war for almost 50 years and they both ended up visiting each others countries when they were older. I like the idea of connecting with someone so far away and making the world feel smaller and more personable.  It's a good reason to force myself to sit and write quietly at night and reflect.