The stress

I find the grind of daily life stressful, as I think most people would. I'm not one of those people who can hide it though. You can hear it in my voice, see it in my body language and feel it if you are with me. It makes life stressful for those around me and even though I know it's a bad thing, I have trouble stopping it.

The daily grind of cooking gets to me easily. There is constant demand for meals, snacks and drinks, like I'm the only one in the house that can get anybody anything to eat - and I've only got two kids. Every hour one of the kids is hungry and I get sick of having to think about the healthy things they should be eating and usually settle for bread and cheese or a biscuit of some kind. Of course then, the guilt about being a good mother comes and I wonder whether I'm destroying their eating habits for life.

And then there's my son. He's driving me crazy and I worry about him constantly. I've talked about him before and how he's a little different than most little boys his age. Oh, he plays with cars and all that and he's doing well at school. But his imagination is driving me crazy. Every day it's something new and weird that he comes up with - today he learned to 'knit' - but he treats it as real and expects us to do the same and if it doesn't happen, it's major meltdown. He talks constantly about things that he makes up or what's going on in his pretend world. He plays the keyboard, but long after he's finished actually playing, his fingers are still drumming out songs on everything (his chest, legs, my head and shoulders, the table while he's eating). He's so caught up in his own world that he doesn't notice things going on around him and he's slow to react to situations - like moving out of the way of people or getting out of the car. People are constantly telling him how to do things and I know that if they give him time, he'll get it done, just in his own time. I love him so much, yet feel like I'm failing him because he's not up to the standards of other people. Ex said the other day "he's still like this" - what he doesn't understand is that our son will always be 'like this' - the same qualities that drive us crazy now are going to be the same qualities that will drive him to pursue his passions, that he will need to be successful in what he chooses to do with his life later on.

I can turn it around and say that he has great focus in things that interest him, amazing energy and a lovely sweetness to him. He's sensitive and affectionate and enthusiastic about the things he loves. He loves imaginary things, being creative and can occupy himself in a way that our daughter never could. He is rigid and obsessive, yet he is thorough and particular and has a fantastic memory that I know will serve him well as an adult. I love him to bits and all that, but sometimes, it just gets a bit too much.

And the other night I was talking about me going away for a weekend and the son came up with 15 excuses about why I shouldn't go. "Ok, who's going to cook for us then?" or "Oh yeah, who will pick us up from school then?" and "Well, you have to go to your classes!" Of course I had a solution for every one of his questions and in the end... he just broke down and said "Please mummy, just don't leave, I just don't want you to leave!" What could I do. I just held him and told him everything will be OK and that there was nothing to worry about. I wasn't going anywhere. And I won't.

Later that night, after feeling crabby most of the afternoon, I got angry, really angry at the kids for appearing to ignore me. Of course, I was over reacting, but I still lost it. And the poor kids copped it. Later when we'd all calmed down and I'd apologised, my daughter told me, in a round about way, that the thing that frightened her the most was that if I got angry enough, for long enough, I'd end up leaving (again). My poor kids. I know it's hard for them, having a mummy like me, who's loving and soft one minute and an unstable shithead the next. I'm sure sometimes they wish I was different. I do too, but I'm not. I am me, moods and all. And while I try to control them, I know that at times, they will get the better of me and things will happen that we'd rather all forget. But I'm not going anywhere. None of us needs that, expecially the kids. The consequences of leaving last time still haunt me in the baggage that appears in our daily lives and conversations - "...but you left last time..."

I'm NOT going anywhere, not for a weekend, a week or a month. I am coming home at Christmas, with the two kids in tow and I will save my money and yearnings for a holiday for that time.