I started writing a post earlier which will now never see the light of day. This is probably just as well, as I was feeling pretty low and self-pitying and I was just going to vent all my angst on you, my loyal blog-friends.
Why was I in such a low? Maybe a combination of things: I'm turning 40 tomorrow (big whoop whoop) and to be honest I kind of wish I had ignored the whole event. Instead, we're having a "bit of a do" on Saturday night. Originally Mr G was going to plan a surprise party, which I got wind of - and took over. Silly me. But you see I was in horror at the thought that he might invite a big Crowd. And that I would end up freaking out in front of stacks of people, or that he might forget to invite some of my nearest and dearest... OK, basically I am just a control freak.
So I guess it serves me right that I've ended up planning my own 40th (for the night after my son's seventh birthday sleepover). Am I crazy or what???
And in the middle of this comes preparation for Christmas. With a large chunk of our family overseas (UK & Spain) this involves planning ahead, organisation and postage.
So by yesterday I was feeling oh-so-blah. So much to do! The gifts sat unwrapped despite my resolution to wrap-as-I-go. Christmas cards sat unwritten; in fact I had completely lost the bag they were in along with Grandma's gifts; oh woe is me.
So what did I do? I stupidly let Dash stay home from school (he was tired; I lacked the energy to pack him off to school under protest) I sent Miss Fab off to school with my neighbour and then I came and hid in here, my computer sanctuary, and started to poor out my blah to the world.I had typed two pathetic lines when the phone rang. It was my mum.
"I just had to ring and remind you of where I was in the process of birthing you, 40 years ago," she laughed.
All my life I have heard the horror stories of my 30-hour birth, which left us both nearly dead. The yearly birth-story phone call is something of a ritual.
Mum had been in labour at a midwife training hospital and had every trainee midwife in the place stick their hands where the sun don't shine. When things turned hairy and I got stuck they finally called in a doctor, who ordered my dad out of the room and mid-contraction, with no warning stuck a pair of forceps up my poor mother. She screamed and passed out.
Mum has no recollection of how long she was unconscious but she dreamed that a rooster was pecking out her insides. Meanwhile dad was beside himself in the corridor hearing his young wife screaming. She was unconscious but still screaming.
When mum awoke she was being stitched up (40 stitches) and there I was lying in a plastic incubator looking right at her.
And then they whisked me away. Mum didn't see me again for 24 hours. She didn't get to cuddle me or even touch me.
As she told me this well-known story, she was crying. Forty years on there is still strong emotion attached to those memories and the fact that we didn't have the chance to bond right away; that the powers-that-be took me away and left her bereft. (Thank goodness times have changed.)
So thanks to my mum this is not quite the whingey self-pitying post it could have been. Yes, I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed and completely lacking energy. Yes, part of me just wishes I could hide til it's all over. But I have a lot to be thankful for (that's right, Simone, you do. There are lots of people way worse off than you... I hear Mr G saying in my head!)
Mum's phone-call was the pick-me-up I needed. Re-energised I clicked into third gear (out of neutral) and wrote out cards, wrapped gifts, found addresses (minus postcodes; gee I hope they get there!) and went to the post office. Ahhhh yes: $159 later. But hey, it's all done now. Thanks to that lovely boost from talking to my ma.
Today I am especially grateful, thankful and appreciative of my mum. Firstly because she went though all that to bring me into the world. Secondly because she is my friend, and she thinks to ring me and reminisce with me about our difficult beginnings; Thirdly because she Basically Rocks.
It's my birthday tomorrow. But it's my Mum who deserves the medal.