If Momma ain't happy.....

If Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

I'm gonna add to this:  if Momma don't know how to be happy, noone else knows what to do with her either.
My mother used to get up after a random bout of depression, having decided that things could be better, and she would give us some variation of her "Let's all be happy" speech.  She would beseech us, "Please kids, please, just for one day, one day, let's be happy.  Please just for one day no one fight.  Let's just all get along."

What none of us knew, including my mom, was how to accomplish this.  I'd sit there frozen in fear and guilt, wondering why it was we couldn't just be happy.

 Are any of you out there parents?  Of more than one child? I am, and I still remember the awkwardness and feeling of wanting to figure out a smooth way to stop the bickering.  I read some good parenting books that helped, but nothing ever takes away the feeling that things probably could've gone better. I used to sympathize with my mom, when that would happen.  I stll never, never allowed myself to blame them because I wasn't good enough.  My guys are practically grown now and they are pretty cool people, so I guess I did something right.  Thank God, for "How to Talk so Kids Will Listen, And How to Listen So Kids Will Talk": that book saved my life.

Growing up, none of us four kids had a clue at the time about how to be happy.  We'd only ever seen miserable. Our single, stressed-out, bi-polar, alcholic mother had no idea what to do with herself, let alone four kids.  The minute she said, "Please don't fight", it was just a matter of time until someone pushed or poked or teased.  We knew, even while we were doing it, what the outcome would be, but it was all so inevitable.  "OOOW, MOM! She hit me!"  "NO I DIDN'T.  YOU STARTED IT"    That was it.  Our happy day blown to smithereens!  What was wrong with us?  We might get a violent spanking or not.  It would definitely end with Mom, boo-hooing down the hall, a trail of accusations spewing over her shoulder to lie heavily over our hearts.  "You kids destroy everything I have.  I don't have anything because of you kids."  Then she would sob dramatically, the muffled sounds making us sick to our stomachs.  It was always our fault.  Even today I take responsiblity for way too much.

Fast forward to Iran, 1994, there I was.  Stuck.  I was in Iran, with no hope of leaving, because my husband at the time had taken my passports and refused to give them back.  I had come to Iran with the intention to live, but I'd been promised I could come back to the States once a year.  There was no difference in the physical situation, total difference in the psychological.  I was devastated.  To top it all off, even though, we had our own house, I was forced to live with my sister-in-law, her husband, and child against my will because they needed help.  God forbid, a family member should not get help when they needed it.  Never mind that I was going out of my mind with culture shock and lonliness.  Momma was not happy, she was very unhappy.  I cried a lot, we argued a lot.  Then I realized what was happening to my children.  They were spending a lot of time trying to make me happy.  No, No, NO!!  Not what I wanted for my kids.  Not at all.  I made peace with the situation.  I used the serenity prayer.  There were things I couldn't change.  There were things I could've, but I either didn't have the courage, or it wasn't worth the peace of mind it would've cost me and my kids.  I made peace with my ex.  I probably enabled him by doing that, but the cost to my sanity and my family's happiness to go on fighting wasn't worth it.  I decided to create peace, come hell or high water! The kids and I met him at the door each day with happy faces, shouting, "Baba's home!"  I cultivated a wonderful group of foriegn ladies married to Iranians. We'd get together and drink coffee, share cultures, and share our problems and give each other advice and support.   I exercised like crazy to relieve stress.  First it was aerobics classes, then later I joined a women's basketball team, and those girls were my family for the next 11 years. I would leave my house rabid with frustration over something inane and unfeeling my ex had done.  After a two-hour practice of running, drills, and practice, I'd come home drained of all negativity, loving the world, a perfect angel.  I read self-help books constantly. It was amazing, there were no English bookstores there selling novels.  Yet everytime I had a problem that I couldn't solve, a book would materialize.  Something on someone's bookshelf would attract me and I'd get to borrow it. Or I'd find a something in dusty used book store.  Towards the end, there were a lot of unaproved copies of books that had been made for English students.  I once found an entire copied set of Anthony Robbins CDs.  (Sorry Anthony. No copyright laws in Iran, and I was desperate!)  I prayed.  I made the determination that if I was happy, then people around me would be happy.  Thank God, that through grace, and an addiction to reading, and a burning desire to know what happiness is, I learned what it takes to feel joy in the worst of circumstances, to look at small everyday things and be comforted.  My mantra in times of trouble is"This too shall pass"  and whether it passes well or in throes of agony, yep, it all passes on.

 It sure does pass better, baby, if Momma is smiling! :)