The duality of it all

The duality of what we deal with in our family is so weird.

I mean - we have this hurt that shrouds so much of what we do - but we also have so much fun and laughter.

It's what makes it hard but survivable - in lots of cases, thrivable (not sure if that's a what... but it fits).

Writing about stuff that is hard is, ironically, easy.

The hard / the hurtful / the difficult... that is easy to articulate because it's a big emotion and you expect it to be hard.

But the fun?

It's so bound up with the hard sometimes I forget to enjoy it.

The reality of what I'm living through is that it is HARD and monotonous and all the things ... but I've come to realise it might have been this hard even if Pete were still alive.

Three teenagers and a tween under the one roof isn't a joke in anyone's language!

Not having the back up and support of the other parent, nor the respite from it, is also hard.

But always when I get to the point of: this is too hard... I find myself thinking about the good things or the fun stuff or I just realise I'm trying to control the situation just so fucking much I am completely missing it all.

The last 2 weeks have been a bit like that.

It's imploded a few times.

Actually, it's exploded... not imploded.

I am not above saying I have completely lost my biscuits and yelled and absolutely cracked in all the places.

But then everyone went to bed.

And the sun came up the next day.

And if I learned anything from having lots of little kids at my feet all at the one time, it's that tomorrow is a new day.

I learned a while ago grief is the same.

You can have a day, or a week, but you go to bed and the sun comes up tomorrow, and it's a new day and you have to try again ... and if the new day turns out to be a hard one, guess what? You go to bed and get to start a new one tomorrow.

Some days that is terrible because the hard things stays overnight.

But for the most part, a new day means everyone wakes up happy... even teenagers.

So having completely lost my mind at the kids, ranting and stomping and yelling angry tears at them about things like picking up after themselves or putting dishes in the sink or getting off a device because FFS how many hours can an adult listen to a one ended conversation about what's going on in a game of Fortnite before they go completely mental? I had to sit back and realise it's not all bad.

The duality of it all is that in between all of that there are funny bits, and laughter, and achievements.

And if I'm honest, I don't know if this is actually just normal for a house full of teenagers - I don't know what 'normal' teenagers are... my eldest child was 12 when Pete died so I actually don't know what 'teenagers without grief' looks like.

So rather than lament them, when stuff gets really hard, I don't need to look very hard to see that there are bits that are good.

At the very base of it - everyone is alive and healthy and mostly functional human beings.

That is the bare minimum of my job as their mother.

But what actually makes it better (and I risk sounding like an evengelical television minister) is the love and fun.

The irony of us suffering the biggest hurt of all, is that it has absolutely united us with the love for one another.

We have one another's backs. Every time. Not perfectly - Not without criticism for poor decisions or bad behaviour. Not without a few swear words. Not without exasperation.

But it's there. Every time.

With sports or school, Team Mecham comes together and supports one another - everyone shows up for one another.

Everyone can fight like cats and dogs, but when there's something fun on the cards, they go all in with chucking their embarrassment to the side and making it fun for themselves and each other.

The jokes. The inside jokes and the very funny banter.

We can all lie around in tbe loungeroom and watch movies, they like doing stuff on holidays, they re always up for something ridiculous, they completely accept I'm likely to

I have kids who openly hug me, kiss me goodbye and say: I love you; in front of their friends, other people, every night at bedtime and every day as they leave for school, so in reality, the leaving of the dishes is because they are teenagers, not because they want to make it harder for me.