My mother is staying with me.
Which is completely fine.
I have always been very close to my mother but inevitably the relationship has changed (more evolved I guess) since my father died just over a year ago. As a result of losing her soulmate of nearly 50 years she has lost her way. Doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. So many readjustments to make it’s ridiculous. She is getting smaller by the minute. Literally shrinking. Ridiculously small. I wanted to shout “HOW HAVE YOU GOT SO SMALL?? YOU NEED TO EAT MORE. GET BIGGER. STOP SHRINKING” “GROW!!” It’s difficult. She’s searching for a new way to live her life and for a reason to get up in the morning and it must be very hard. With all the jokes I’m making about Valentine’s Day I can feel a massive heart-swell of sadness looming underneath my ribcage for her – because my father was spectacular on Valentine’s Day. Always drew her a fabulous card – the last one he did for her had little cartoon figures of him on a boat, in a plane, driving a car, playing golf, drinking with mates, being on holiday and so on and then on the inside page he said “I only have one serious hobby and that is you” with a little cartoon picture of her….
She has to find a new role for herself without really wanting to have to do it and with not so many options available to her anymore and all we can do as her children is welcome her into our homes whenever she is feeling brave enough to fit in with another family and in my case leave her to fight her corner in the dragon’s den as best she can with my three growing children (although at least she doesn’t have to pretend to get on with any in-laws). It doesn’t always work. Having my mother trying not to judge me from her allocated seat behind her newspaper makes me behave badly. I seem to be more stressed because I slightly feel that because there’s another adult in the room things should be easier. Tasks should be divided and my life should become half as difficult. So I do a lot more huffing and puffing and making things look more complicated than they actually are. Her presence mostly seems to highlight just how dysfunctional we can be as a family. Yesterday for example (and I blame the full moon) we all had meltdowns left, right and centre to the point where my mother announced that life in my house was worse than watching an episode of Eastenders mixed with Holby City.