I wish I could say something like: You know that old saying? The one about how kids are a barometer for your state of mind? Yeah! That's the one! Well, unfortunately, wherever I look, I can find no history for a statement like that. I really tried, but to no avail.
So I guess I'll just have to put on my big girl boots and say it myself (she says putting her neck out on a limb): My kids are a barometer for my state of mind. When I'm fine, they're fine. When I'm rested, they're rested. When I'm confident, they're confident. But when I'm, teetering, well, the wheels seem to dislodge themselves, and everyone tends to lose the plot a bit.
I guess it makes sense too, right? I mean: if I'm stable and happy and in control, the environment I provide for my children is stable and happy and controlled. They feel safe. They have structure. They know what to expect. They get along just fine.
But when I'm tired slash depressed slash pre-menstrual, I am not stable. My mood jumps around like a popcorn in a popper. So there is no consistency. No stability. No control. Most of the time, when I'm like that, it's a good day if I get to the evening in one piece, let alone the children. So when I have an emotional dip, my children's environment is shaken. They feel more anxious than usual, more nervous, they grasp for the familiar structure that is temporarily out of action. And it shows.
The nagging kicks in. They start to become demanding of my attention. Attention I am unable to lavish on them. They squabble more readily than usual. They dissolve into tears for no reason at all. They become less confident of their own actions. They withdraw.
And when I see them "acting up" like that, I cringe because I know that I am to blame.
So I try desperately to keep it together. Every day. For them. They deserve so much more than I often feel I have to offer. But I refuse to let them have memories of a broken, empty mother - so I put on my happy pants and try to be all I wish I could be for them.
My real concern lies in what has been. It's taken some time for me to get to that point of realisation of how my behaviour affects theirs. So what about all those million times I screwed it up in the past? Those times that I was edgy within my own self. Those times that I collapsed thinking that I would not be able to take another step? Surely they have had an impact.
And I'm convinced of this fact, because when I look at my two miraculous children, I can see which of them had me in my good years and which had me when I was a shadow of that same woman. Post natal depression robbed my second child of a confident, lively, playful mother. That child, bless her, had to make do with a fall apart mommy, a threadbare surrogate, a mother who loved her yes, but gave all she could no. And yes, it does show.
Let me put it this way: Once upon at a time, a beautiful angel was given guardianship of an amazing sunshine dancer. A child who bloomed from one season to the next. A radiant, alive, bold and wonderful explosion of humanity. Bright. Warm. Confident. A life infectious supernova. This glowing sunbeam was rooted in a beginning where her soil was fertile and tended by an ever-present gardener. The angel was a caring nurturer who was intrigued and fascinated by the awesome luminosity of the child she had been given.
Then came the winter. And the angel fell. Her wings were ravaged by an unknown beast.
And another child was bequeathed. A mystical, magical moonshine angel. A gentle spirited shimmer of light who's purity penetrated even the darkest of nights. A delicate crystal ray. A mystifying brightness. This intriguing moonbeam princess was strong and beautiful, mild mannered but determined. A secret whisper of things yet to come. And she was enveloped in the arms of the fallen angel, a tired, broken traveller, an ailing stargazer seeking healing for her tattered wings. And the moonlight child shone on, eclipsed by the affliction of her guardian. Her efforts to shine through were that much stronger, and the fragile moonbeam became stronger still.
The health of the angel guardian improved somewhat, and the sun and the moon shone together in happy synergy, reflecting one another's light. But there were times when beast preyed on the guardian angel, and she would fall ill, for she had little strength left in her earthly bones. And when her weakness grew, the sunshine child would warm her heart and the moonshine child would slip beneath the guardian, her light diminished, but her presence felt beneath the guardian's weary head.
And so it would go.
Until one day. A passing minstrel remarked that the moonbeams light was soft and translucent. And for the first time, the guardian saw how dimly the moonbeam was shining. She looked at the little ray of light and realised that the moon had been earthbound for far too long. The angel cried with great remorse, for she had not seen the moonlight fading.
Was it too late to relaunch her dear tender-hearted shaft of light back into an orbit where she could sparkle and glimmer for the rest of her days? Would she ever be able to reignite the spark that the moonlight princess hid in her heart?
What would you do, if you were that guardian angel?
