Life is real so let’s be real about it.
How do you explain mixed emotions? The fact that at the end of the day I crawl into bed exhausted not sure what kind of day I’ve had. Good and bad are words that are too general to use when it comes to my days. If I write down what I’ve done, what’s happened and what I’ve felt it’s always a mix of ‘good’ and ‘bad’. Challenges of ‘bad spirits’ in our courtyard (I’m not joking), staff who are having nervous breakdowns (due to said bad spirits), cajoling the Princes to do their homework, get in the bath, get out of the bath, sick Princes, Princes pretending to be sick (very hard to tell the difference), Baby Princes who love to eat poisonous Syringa Berries… And amazing, happy things like sitting with a Cuppocino and writing, seeing the Spring flowers bloom into happy rainbow colours, happy Princes building a volcano experiment together, playing soccer, going to yoga, Baby Prince learning to blow kisses (though if you ask for a kiss on your cheek, you’re more likely to get a bite), actually doing my work, finishing jobs, reading a really good book (I just read the latest Bridget Jones book, which was a bit of fun.)
Experiencing the whole gambit of emotions in a day is exhausting. Juggling as a mother is exhausting. Especially when I think things shouldn’t be all mixed up, days are either ‘good’ or ‘bad’. But there’s no such thing. They’re more than often mixed, confused and chaotic. For anyone and everyone, but especially as a mother.
This brings to mind the amazing YouTube clip with Dr Brene Brown ‘The Power of Vulnerability’ – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCvmsMzlF7o . A must watch for everyone. (I literally sat my husband down and forced him to watch it, and he loved it.) Dr Brene Brown is a researcher who researched the topic of the difference between ‘whole hearted’ people and the rest of us. ‘Whole hearted’ people have a strong sense of belonging and self worth and can be vulnerable. They can experience pain and joy. She claims that when you shut yourself down from experiencing uncomfortable emotions such as pain, sadness and fear, you also block yourself from experiencing the opposite emotions of joy, happiness, courage. Our society with our magazine picture perfect veneer is not very good at living in the real life every day chaos of reality. And reality is not picture perfect. It’s mixed, confused and chaotic. We’re not very good at feeling like we unconditionally belong and are all worthy even if our teeth aren’t perfectly white, and we’re not a size 8, and don’t have long, shiny, swishy hair, or are a high powered, heel clacking somebody. She points to the very real chasm in ourselves and our society, and it’s a relief to hear her.
We need to be ‘whole hearted’ and teach our children to be ‘whole hearted’ which means to live with acceptance of our selves and each other. Acceptance of our days which aren’t linear and neat, but rather chaotic. We need to teach our children that they are beloved, they belong and are essentially important, but they will have challenges, they will feel things they don’t want to feel. They will laugh and they will cry as we do.
The more I learn about the anomaly of life. That tears are the same whether you are crying with joy or sadness, the more I can let life flow without fighting it. When I burn out now as I did last week after a month of birthday partying. (All the sugar and late nights definitely takes its toll.) That my struggle of figuring out my identity as a mother and a person who wants a life beyond mothering is a tension that may always be there. The fact that I’m imperfect and my husband is imperfect and we will fight and argue and sometimes even hate each other is okay. The fact I fight, argue and sometimes even ‘SHOUT’ at the Princes is also okay. And the more okay I am with it, the more okay they are too. And the easier it is to bounce back into the love and joy and simple tickley giggles. The discomfort will pass, and the joy comes. Or they may come together. A good example for women is child birth. Birth is painful, the after birth pains are even more painful, and yet I remember being ecstatically happy because I had a baby, although I was crying with pain. It doesn’t make sense. It’s a relief to stop trying to make sense of everything and just let things be.
So as I sit here writing. I feel mixed. Happy and content to be writing. Unhappy and fidgety that Prince No. 4 is home alone (with the nanny) for my Cappuccino hour. When I dwell on my discomfort I feel like I’ll never get the balance right. When I dwell on the reality and truth that I spent all day with Prince No. 4 yesterday and now it’s my own Sarah identity time, I breathe easier. The tension is still there, and I suspect it’s a tension I will always have, as so many mothers do. But that is arguably life, and the sooner I accept it rather than fight it, box it, compartmentalise it and try and fix it, the better.