Mother’s Day…I’m Just Not That Into You

I don’t need flowers, I don’t need a fancy dinner, and I don’t need lingerie.

I DO need chocolate.  But I prefer to pick it out myself since I have VERY high standards!

I am referring to Mother’s Day, of course.  While I know that many people appreciate this holiday, I’m not one of them.  I’ve never connected with it, even after I became a mother.  All I cared about growing up was my birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas – that was it.  This year I’ve felt particularly repelled by the incredible amount of spam that has appeared in my email folder over the past three weeks.

Strawberries for Mother’s Day!!!  Floral bouquets for Mother’s Day!!!  You-name-it for Mother’s Day!

For me this day has become too loaded with happy expectations and it ends in disappointment.  Who needs it? Especially since you all know I have THE best Mother’s Day gift ever:   snooze

Seven-week-old puppy Lucy snoozing on my pillow despite the fact she’s technically not supposed to be on the bed.  Please let that be our secret!

As thrilled as I am to be under Lucy’s spell, she’s not a panacea to all my problems. I’m having one of those days in which PMS symptoms are beginning to rise their ugly heads.  As a result, I’ve been irritable and unable to relax.  All day long I’ve had an annoying feeling that I should be accomplishing a lot more than I’m doing, and I’m not cutting it!

I wish I could just nap in an instant as sweet Lucy does, complete with puppy dreams.  With two lively children in this house, I don’t see a nap in my immediate future.  What will help me is working out and breaking a good sweat.  That’s my plan for the late afternoon.  My workout becomes all the more alluring because it’s the time when I read your blog posts on my Kindle.  All the juicy, incisive, inspiring writing I read makes my elliptical workout whiz by.

Despite my aversion to Mother’s Day, I admit I’ll take advantage of the holiday all the same.  I’m not asking for much, so I’m easy compared to other “high-maintenance” moms. who require high-end jewelry and Creme de Mer.  I want to be able to hang out with fluffball Lucy, write, work out, and eat something yummy at home.  I know the girls have made me gifts at school and those will be the only gifts I need.

The other day I read a fascinating post on Stigmama.com that discusses Mother’s Day in a different light.  Stigmama.com founder/author Dr. Walker Karraa also mentions other topics close to my heart in relation to motherhood, maternal mental health and awareness campaigns.  Dr. Karraa writes in a highly original, powerful way and her perspectives are never boring!  The post is located at:

http://stigmama.com/2014/05/05/mother-may-i/

Speaking of that which is powerful, yesterday I watched the documentary “Running From Crazy” featuring Mariel Hemingway. The film examines the Hemingway legacy and it takes a close look at suicide and the genetics of mental illness.  What affected me the most were the scenes of Mariel having candid mental-illness themed conversations with her two grown daughters.

Neither daughter said she had severe mental illness, but in one scene Mariel told her daughter pointedly she had been “very worried” about her when she suffered depression.  Mariel had every right to be gravely concerned when depression surfaced in her child, as a whopping seven of her family members had taken their lives, “maybe more” as Mariel said.

While watching “Running From Crazy” it occurred to me for the umpteenth time that as a mom with two daughters of my own I’ll always worry about my girls succumbing to bipolar disorder.  I don’t want my Avonlea and Marilla to feel like Mariel Hemingway.  I don’t want them feeling like they are “running from crazy” throughout their lives, sprinting like mad to escape severe mental illness that arose in the generations before them.

On second thought I’d like the money my husband will spend on a Mother’s Day fancy card, flowers, and dinner to go to a meaningful cause: The International Bipolar Foundation.  The International Bipolar Foundation helps those with bipolar and anyone else affected by bipolar, and they’re active advocates.   As we’re a family on a super-tight budget, we rarely donate to non-profits.  However, since I’m fairly certain that money shall be spent on me for Mother’s Day, I’d like to direct it to a place that makes me feel good.

And now that I’ve gotten theses concerns off my motherly chest, I shall forget about putting away dishes, doing laundry and paying bills and return to Puppyland!!!  Happy Sunday.  😉

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My Name is Dyane, and I’m a Puppyholic

I probably shouldn’t jest about a term that ends in “holic”, so I hope I don’t offend anyone.  

If you’re taken aback, please pardon me.  I’m under Lucy’s spell.  

Here’s item #1 to support my claim, the video “Dy & Lucy”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eB8cXH8xeko

I actually had the audacity (and/or foolishness) of posting that video on my Facebook page.  You know you’re in puppy love when you don’t care too much that you’re posting a video clip in which you rolled out of bed, you haven’t brushed your hair, you didn’t put on a stitch of makeup, and hmmm, when was that last shower?  Plus you look a little bit…crazed. (As much as I loathe the word “crazy”, I do look a bit wacked out in my glazed eyes.)  

But it’s all good, you see?

Because it’s all about Lucy!

At the ripe age of forty-four, I forgot all about the experience of puppy bliss.  (I also forgot about the house training, but nothing’s perfect!)  The last time I cared for a puppy was twenty-four years ago, in which Tara (Lucy’s great aunt) came into my life.  

Tara’s mother, a Sheltie/wolf mix, had to have a Cesarian section, and I witnessed my puppy being born.  Tara almost didn’t make it.  I viewed her birth through a window at the animal hospital, and the veterinarian repeatedly lifted Tara up and down to clear out her lungs.  I remember feeling such a rush of joy when I was told she would live.  Tara was a fabulous dog in all sorts of ways, and when she died in my arms a few years ago I already struggled with bipolar depression.  When she left me, I sank even deeper in despair.

The fact that Tara lives on through our Lucy moves me.  It feels right.  We put off having a dog for years due to the severity of my mental illness.  Now that I’ve been stable for a while, it’s an opportune time to embark on this journey.  

It’s nice to focus on such a loving, trusting and joyful small creature.  

Being in the garden today with Lucy is the antithesis to being stuck in a mental hospital with nothing except strangers, pills, and misery.  I can’t help but make the comparison between those two experiences – the thought arrives without warning.  I imagine my feeling is related to post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); I’m not sure if those intrusive thoughts will ever disappear.  

What matters more than the trauma of hospitalization is that I made it through those suicidal periods.  While I wasn’t magically healed after my last hospital discharge, over time I got much better.  I’m back to trusting my own brain again.  I’m grateful that as I type this last paragraph, I spot little Lucy edging up to me with the beauty of her affection, and I can scoop her up and savor her warmth with every fiber of my being.

Amazing cuteAmazing cute two