Happy Mother's Day 2012

For now, I am a content mother. My son is 30 feet away, asleep on my sofa. He has a room here but he never quite makes it that far.

Last night I slept well knowing he was safe and sound. Well, safe anyway. I had crazy dreams though, about many of my fears, like holding a baby while up high and knowing I’m so afraid of heights I might drop him if I try to move. Giant dogs; Mastiffs and German Sheppard’s- twice their normal size chasing me down the street. Getting lost, feeling scared. Still, I slept better than most nights. My neurosis, my obsession with my son’s safety and well-being that started with conception and has increased exponentially ever since- temporarily abated.

Sometimes I think- if I could just stop worrying about him for five minutes life would be great- but I just found out that is not quite true.

I won a book last week called “Some Assembly Required- A Journal of My Son’s First Son” by Anne Lamott.  I have read all of Annie’s books and loved them all because I love her honesty and her quirky way of looking at the world. I was not planning to read this book though because I am not a grandmother and probably couldn’t relate. Since I won it and I was out of something to read … and on the recommendation of my friend Denise, I read it. Of course, I could relate to almost every word.

I worry sometimes if I will be a good grandmother. If Nick were smart, he would father a child now just to take the heat off himself. I could transfer all that neurosis to a fresh new face (like his grandmother did) and my son could breathe free air again. (not really) After reading Annie’s book, I can see how that happens. I could see myself in almost every page she wrote.

I know moms who are not neurotic. Mom’s that go about their lives and somehow- (and I have no idea how) let go and let God. I can’t do that. I don’t trust God to make the right decisions- I’ve seen Him get it wrong way too many times.

This Mother’s Day- I’m going to try to focus on the good stuff. I’m going to tell myself that PTSD, (his and my residual) is treatable if not curable and that eventually all will be right with the world. I’m going to remind myself that I raised a city kid who actually does know how to cross a busy intersection without getting hit by a car or the 38 Geary. He doesn’t stand too close to the BART tracks, or any of the nearby cliffs. His life has mirrored mine in many ways- and I’m still here- so I know I have passed some survival skills to him- and I guess the USMC taught him some tricks too.

Today- I will resist the urge to bang around the kitchen to wake him up so I can selfishly have a few more minutes of his time. Instead of taking this Mother’s Day to indulge my neurotic whims, I will stand down. I will relax. I will breathe. I will find my sense of humor and remake myself into a not crazy mama.  Then- perhaps when my son says “Happy Mother’s Day Mom” it will have more meaning- like the special day it should be and not just another day of crazy.