It’s interesting to me that I apparently only have something to share of value about every other month. This, of course, leads me to wonder how all these other author/bloggers find something of value every single week or even every day. Perhaps it’s my life situation, a single mother with two young children, running my business from home. I’m too busy playing multiple roles, and trying to cover over any holes in the spackling of my children’s live’s with love, to give my own creative process much time.

The funny thing is I had someone tell me about a year ago that I’d better watch it, better find some time for me or I’d begin to resent them. This struck me as absurd, and I let the person who shared that with me know that. His kids grown and out of the house, he really did not understand the symbiotic nature of the relationship that I have with my children. We truly rely on one another in every way and that is just continuing to grow and flourish in more positive ways as we mature.

About a month ago, I was busy trying to get the house winterized. Nearly 100-years-old, she’s a cheeky old dame, but needs a little make-up to get through winter’s grand ball. One of the things that I do to prepare her is to cover all of her old windows in plastic. I generally wait as long as I can to do this, but this year when we went from 70 to –20 in the course of a week, I was left no choice. I was nearly done upstairs and running out of plastic when one of the sheets tore that I was applying. Tired, frazzled, I let myself have a good old tizzy, as my mother always called them. It went something like this: “I hate this house,” fist hitting wall and tears following. Then the same phrase repeated several times as I finally sat down on the floor and had a good cry.

After my breakdown, I sat down with my kids to try and explain why I’d gotten so upset at the house. My son had started crying telling me, “I love this house mom.” I told them that I was mentally and physically exhausted, that every once in a while it sounded really nice to have somebody give me a hand. I told them that sometimes I get tired of trying to do everything myself – the usual laments of a single mom. My children listened, comforting me as I spoke. And, finally, they both said, “But, you’re not alone mom, we’re here.” “I can help you,” Elias pointed out. I looked at him and realized that he was right, it wouldn’t be long and I’d have a little man around the house to help. Squeezing them both, I told them they were right and the moment passed.

About a week ago I was in my office working when Elias walked in with a note for me. It said, “I Love you mom. I am happy if you are happy. You are my mom and I Love you.” The spelling was all correct, it was written in yellow, and interestingly both I and love were capitalized. I sat looking at it, and my first thought was, leave it to a kid to figure out that Love should always be capitalized. Then, I set it in my printer feed tray next to my computer so I could meditate on it often.

How many times have other adults told me that if I’m happy, my kids will be happy, and here it is coming directly from my 6-year-old’s loving hand.  Prophetically, a client and friend of mine sent me a couple books for Christmas that address this very subject. So far, they’ve both captivated me and appear to offer a lot of wisdom into this matter of discovering your own happiness. It appears that the meat of one book is that you can’t base your happiness on events out of your control – like me becoming a great author, for example.

So, here I sit, knowing that I will never resent my children. Fearing that if I don’t create a life for myself and find happiness inside myself I will saddle them with a needy, overbearing mom as they begin to grow apart from me and develop into their own individual branches. It’s an awesome thing to contemplate. I always thought the Holy Grail of being published was my only dream. But, now alone, I realize that it will take a great deal more for me to find fulfillment – a great deal more.