Kids are a lot cleverer than we think they are. Of course, my kids are teenagers now, but they know a lot more and understand a lot more than they let on.
For context: we went to a restaurant tonight where many paintings are on the walls, and those paintings are for sale. Amongst other topics, we started talking about the art on the walls and which one appealed to each of us most. My daughter (13) noticed that for once, I didn’t go for the darkest painting, but for one with lots of purple, blue and violet hues. And she agreed with her sister (14) that this reflected my mental state as being less dark and more optimistic. And they are right, but I also felt caught.
You see, as a mom, I try to do my best, functioning and shielding the kids from my inner sorrows and turmoil. I try to protect them from my dark moods, my depression, my mental state. But they know me well, and they also have very fine antennas that allow them to detect how I am. I never wanted them to pass and adjust to me. I wanted them to be their own selves. And to a degree, I succeeded. But I also failed, because they take care of me. And that is something I hate. It’s a lot different from when I was a teenager and had to care for my mother who was not only depressed (because of her illness: MS), but who also needed help with basic daily needs (also because of her illness). It’s different. And yet, it is not.
Sometimes, I catch myself asking my kids to do this or that for me out of convenience or laziness. And since I often felt burdened when my mother asked simple things of me (bring me a glass of water, fetch this and that for me), I cancel my request as soon as I asked. (Could you bring me a glass of water? Oh, never mind… I have feet and hands, I can do it myself. Sorry for asking when I am capable of doing this myself). And they look at me funny and I never understood why until I just wrote this sentence down. They don’t have the back information to understand why I don’t want to bother them with silly and meaningless stuff. Quite a revelation… I guess a discussion is in order where I explain why I ask and take it back. I am probably overthinking.
Fact is, my kids are growing up in a home that is filled with love and laughter. Their friends don’t understand why we never fight and the parents of their peers don’t understand why we have so much trust and humour that we share.
It’s never easy, but we try to talk about everything and never let the kids feel as if they or their thoughts and fears are not valid. For example, we had to elect a new government last week. (We are required by law to vote in Luxembourg). We openly discussed the 12 parties and their pros and cons without telling them who to vote for. Our son had to vote for a new government for the first time as he turned 18 last January. It was always very clear that he was supposed to have his own ideas and his own voting preference. Truth be told, I am very liberal with a slight leaning to the left, whereas my husband is more conservative with a very slight leaning to the right. We discussed it openly and respectfully. And I think that is key.
Our kids are raised by two very different parents but since we accept, tolerate and often push each other, those differences make things interesting, rather than hostile. There is a lot of love and respect between my husband and me. And humour. We sulk sometimes (not often) and we never fight (because he doesn’t know how to fight and with time, I forgot how to fight too and just become silent and withdrawn). Sometimes, I wish we would fight so that the kids would learn how to fight too. But even between them, they rather discuss their issues with each other than having screaming matches. When I tell people that I have three teenagers and that they don’t fight or scream, they look at me as if I am an alien…
Okay, back to the start. I want to protect my kids from my depression and my black moods, but I am fully aware that I cannot hide those things because they grew up with it. It’s just weird and a little bit embarrassing when they notice that I am in a better state. And lots of that has to do with my work. I know it is not the best thing to do, but I define myself by my work. It’s not always consciously because I adored staying home with my kids, but since my social circle is (almost) non-existent, work is what makes a big part of my life. And so far, I love my current job. I don’t say it often because I am afraid to jinx it. But being called Joffer Cathy (Miss Cathy) at school is quite something.
I love my kids. Sometimes, I hear my biological clock ticking and I feel the wish of having a fourth kid growing inside of me… But then I look at Amalia, Giulia, and Olivier and I remember all the memories we made, but also the sleepless nights, the worries (that never lessened and never will). I remember how much freedom these three allow me (and Patrick) to have and I push the thought of a new pregnancy down. Many women I know and who are my age are pregnant for the first time now. When their first-born is 18, they will be 58. When I am 58, I could already be a grandma. (When I am 58, Amalia will be 31, Giulia will be 33, Olivier will be 36) It’s mind-blowing.
I could write so many things about my kids, but I won’t. They deserve their privacy… That’s also why I very rarely share their pictures online and only if they saw the photo and agreed to it being posted.
There is a lot of love and peace in me right now… I want to share it with everyone whose thoughts are touching mine.
❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️
reflections of an unquiet mind 