Diana Pharaoh Francis | Diana P. Francis | Diana Francis


Friday, March 21st, 2014
Being mom

One of the tough things about this illness with my son is being the mom. He’s with me all day and so I’m primary. I have to think about his care and feeding, while also thinking about the rules, the chores, and the learning how to be a self-reliant person. He’s hit his teen years, so that makes things tougher. He’s really going through changes and yet he’s sick and he wants to be independent, but doesn’t want to do some of the things that are required of him. So I’m in a position of trying to decide what lines to hold and what lines to let slip. This is part of what’s wearing on me. It isn’t that the man isn’t totally supportive, because he is. It’s that I’m in the trenches and so I have hours and hours where I’m the only one.

I am struggling with that. Being strong enough, being wise enough, being calm and careful enough.  Especially when I’m the target of the dramatic tantrums and outbursts (he doesn’t yell at me or anything. But he’s good at sucking the air out of the house all the same).

I just sent the man out with the kids to get dinner so I could be alone in the silence. Well, the dogs are here. The sun is shining bright through the window and while I’m tempted to go for a walk, I also just want to sit in the sunbeam. I did not make words today. They just aren’t there right now. That’s worrying me a lot, which no doubt helps the situation tremendously. Both kids are home right now–spring break–which doesn’t make it any easier. I suppose there’s always tomorrow.

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