I'm not sure if I've told you this but I seem to swing between being a valuable, functioning member of society to being completely and utterly crazy (but lets go out on a limb and use the term 'spirited'). It would appear that this has been a trait I have carried with me throughout my life.
As I worked my way through Raising Your Spirited Child I was confronted with the reality that my darling boy is indeed me. My mum's comment back here ( it's about half way down in the comments section- Anonymous commenter at 11:42 am. She calls me Emily, thats how I know she's serious) rings true. You know, i drove her bonkers- I'm pretty sure in was intentional at times too. I recall thinking- 'wow, mum's about to loose it, I wonder what will happen if I push just a little more?' She was such a good mumma (and still is) to my brother and I. Despite all of our many and varied challenges I totally remember feeling nurtured, encouraged, and valued by her- she would set me up in the kitchen and let me cook whatever I wanted... literally ANYTHING. Smiling with delight ( i can see it now) when I would present flat, burnt muffins filled with flour, edicole dye, Vegemite, sprinkles and any other goodies I could find in the pantry. She would even taste them. That's love I tell you. I never felt like I was annoying her, or making too much of a mess, or talking too much, I just felt loved.
These days i'm on the other side of that mother child relationship and one thing still baffles me - mum, how the bloody hell did you do it?
The Young Man spends his days creatively searching for chaos. He likes to cook, just like I did. Paint, just like I did and talk. non. bloody. stop. Just like I did.
I can only hope that as a man he will remember being loved too.