Mad is O.K. in our house. At least I’ve tried to teach them that it is O.K. to get angry. It is also expected that we try to find a way to work it out or at least talk about it. Sage goes around saying, “Even when we’re mad, we still love each other.” Yes, that’s one of my big lessons for them. One I think is so important. Even when we’re mad, we still love each other.
I was mad at my own mama just the other day. It was the day we were leaving Michigan and I’m sure that’s loaded for both of us on so many levels. We’d been around each other five weeks and we’re so close an unreliable psychologist once said he thought we might be co-dependent. I said unreliable but I do think he may have had a valid point. My mom and I are close. Close like we typically talk a couple times a day. Close like she would love for me to give her a back-rub regularly (I only acquiesce once in a while). Close like if anything ever happened to her, I’m afraid I’d be so lost I wouldn’t recognize myself.
On the morning the kids and I were leaving and probably for the two days prior, my mom was a stressed out crazy person. Not only because of our imminent departure but because the day after we left, she was flying out of town too – actually, out of the country. All of those are good reasons to be stressed and I get that. But my mom’s reaction is hibernation mode. Picture an ostrich asleep with its head in the sand. Whereas stress typically motivates me and shoves me into high gear, my mom slows down, procrastinates, gets into bed for three hours, and then gets up more stressed and anxious because of what she still has to do. It’s fun to be around her at these times. Add your typical two and a half year old and a seven year old to the mix and it’s a downright party. NOT. It’s miserable. For everyone, I think.
She’s worried about us leaving on time, she’s worried that she hasn’t packed yet, she’s worried that she won’t get back to town to go to the bank in time to deposit the checks she’s been holding onto for three weeks. She’s worried that the marina might call about the boat and she won't be there. She’s worried that she won’t get a letter written that she’s been meaning to write for three months. She’s worried because she didn’t see a certain friend in the 48 hours she was in town . . . Do you get where I’m going with this? It’s absolutely maddening. And I just read somewhere that 95% of the things we worry about never even come true!
So, in the midst of all this worry and leave-taking, I guess I should have offered my mom a backrub. But the best I could do as we headed down the road was write the letter for her she’d been putting off for months and list all her checks on her deposit ticket so they’d be ready when she sprinted back to the bank. It wasn’t everything but perhaps it was enough. Because even when I’m mad at her, she knows – without a doubt – that I still love her. And, even at her ostrich impersonating best, I know she loves me.
Wouldn’t you know, when I talked to her the next morning, everything had magically fallen into place. We got to the airport on time, she got packed, made it to the bank, talked to the friend she hadn’t seen (and hopefully thanked her friend Steve without whom most of my mom’s to-do list would never get done); she even had time for a pedicure. She might have earned three new wrinkles for all her worry and a “Mean Grammy” from her grand-kids, but other than that, it’s just water under a bridge somewhere a long way from Saginaw, MI - somewhere near Paris, France.
Note: The title of this essay came from a book called Llama, Llama Mad at Mama by Anna Dewdney. A great kid’s book full of familiar routines, feelings and a little llama drama. I didn’t mention llama drama above but Little Llama and a certain stressed-out ostrich might have had a lot to talk about . . .
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