The Blooming Period

What an artsy/philosophical title. That was my first thought. People will want to know what it is. They will be intrigued. It sounds wonderful. It sounds 'zen'ish.

And it is... kinda...

The other titles that came to me were 'Buddha and The Banshee' and 'On Being Buddha'. Any guesses? Anyone?...

It's my bloomin' period. It's finally started up again now that the baby is about 14 months old.

I can sense the readers groaning... Oh, just give me a minute! I'm sure I can twist this subject into something thoughtful, a little funny, somewhat educational and hopefully a bit different than anything you've read on the subject before. Just give me a chance!

*******

Blooming is hard work for a brain. Waves of patience and impatience sometimes drift and sometimes crash back and forth.

On one hand, I have the patience of Buddha, which is highly unusual for me as I'm almost constantly stressed about how much I can get done in a day. The patience of Buddha, for a person like me is absolutely wonderful but also a sign of things to come.

...the pendulum swings...

On the other hand, I have to practically put myself in a straight-jacket and muzzle to stop from flying (on my broomstick) to the nearest mountain-top and sending out a deafening SHRIEK to the entire world (and a few space aliens who are in close enough proximity) to "BEHAVE!" and "LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

Prestigious universities are doing many studies about brains and meditation and exercise and vitamins. These studies make me wonder what is going on in my brain during a bloom.

They make me wonder if my Anti-Banshee-Potion results are all in my head. Perhaps, later on when I can think straight, I will look and see if another doctor has done any studies of the female brain in bloom.

Nevertheless, in one respect, my family benefits because on the surface I mostly look like Buddha. Why is this? Because I have become painfully conscious that I could blow my top at any moment and I would feel awful if I turned the children into 'victims of the bloom'. And of course there's the Anti-Banshee-Magic-Potion...

It's helpful to have, not only a good potion but a good husband at this time too. He makes it possible for me to manage the Buddha facade even through the Banshee period(pun intended - as always).

It all started a couple of weeks ago. My body chemistry changed... again...

When I get pregnant (as I have been seven times now - so it's definitely a pattern), I don't need deoderant. Other bodily fluids also cease to be produced (but not spit and tears)... I'll let you mull that one over...

Then blam, almost like a lightswitch being flicked on and off, it all comes back in a way that my body is making up for all the 'non-smelly' days I've had for the last two years. I told my partner that I suspected my vacation from blooming would shortly be over. I think it's important to warn people in my immediate vicinity of this... especially him as he becomes a prime target.

Then, last week I started waking in the middle of the night and craving chocolate badly enough to get up and come all the way downstairs to sneak some. The second night this happened, I quickly ingested some Anti-Banshee-Potion (B50 vitamin, a good dose of zinc and a fairly big dose of Evening Primrose Oil) and tried to get some more good sleep. Two more nights of the same schedule and then... Voila! The Blooming Period.

And I could not follow through on anything! I frustrated myself beyond all comprehension! Time becomes irresolute. I cannot keep track of anything. And so I have two choices...

One, become an army sergeant, bellowing orders to everyone around, of the tasks that need to be performed.

Two, let everything go and let everyone do whatever they want to do. As long as they demand nothing of me, I can focus on Being Buddha.

The Anti-Banshee Potion allows me to make this choice. With it, I have learned that my tides lull back and forth, gently, the way petals open in the morning and close up at night, so that I can hang on to the Buddha surf even as the Banshee wave drifts toward me. Without my magical potion, enormous waves of Buddha and the Banshee come crashing down upon me with such speed and force that it is unnerving and I cannot brace myself... and the damage done spreads to all things near.

Okay, it's a little over-the-top, poetically... but it gives a good picture. The other thing the Anti-Banshee Magic Potion lets me do, is call my loving partner at work and let him know what he's coming home to so that he has plenty of time to get into his "Yes dear. Why don't I take care of the children and let you have some quiet time."-mode.

Now, I know that I'll probably publish this today and so it will look like I do nothing but worship my Love. This is truly not the case. I have, at least, 5 other essays in my drafts, that are not yet ready for public consumption. Not one of them has anything to do with him but they're just not finished yet. And so, dear readers, you get to read, once again, about my wonderful Darling.

On Friday, I called him at work to let him know that...

"The other day I was right... I'm in the midst of Blooming and my petals are feeling a touch bruised... And the children are not dressed... And the living room is a mess... And all I've fed everyone all day long is taco meat because I just can't seem to muster up enough emotional strength to do anything but heat up stuff-to-consume-that's-already-made.... And the only thing I've managed to do, somehow, is make sure that the things-that-eat-stuff got to eat stuff... And the things-that-need-to-do-math-and-music got their mathwork and music done for the day... And I'm disappointed in myself to the point of wanting to have a good cry, not just because I can't get anything done today (except sitting and reading) but because I'm refering to all the cat, chickens, dogs and children as 'things', which I'm sure makes me the worst mother on the planet. Waaaaaah."

He came home with 3 sunflowers (we have 3 children), did not say a word about having a bowl of taco meat for dinner and took the children out to their Friday night social, thereby letting me have some quiet time - alone - with me, myself and I, all in attendance.

And when he got home, he made me a lovely gin and tonic (which we only treat ourselves to on Friday nights) because half an hour alone was no where near long enough for me to get such a task done.

Finally, when I suggested that we had not seen our lovely neighbours (adopted local grandparents for our children) in a while and should have them over for breakfast on Sunday, He did not invite them. (I can hear the huge sigh of relief from all the way over at their house. And they also are thinking of Him in capitals now.)

Can you imagine a blooming brain on gluten?!

And though I may be a bit more smelly, my nursing babe and I have lovely, creamy, flawless, glowing skin to show for it.

Life is good and messy and crazy and calm and flaw/less... here in The Gray Zone.