by Emma K. Jones

Created on: May 04, 2008

More Tape Please

"Mom" he shouted from his upstairs bedroom. "I don't have any clean socks." Wearily, she treaded up the stairs; found a pair of socks in the clean clothes he had yet put away. No polite "Thank You," just a mumbled "oh."

The "he" in this scenario is my nine-year-old son and the "mom" of course is me. Being a mom is hard work, as any mom knows. Due to recent circumstances, my grown daughter with Bi-Polar and her two very young children have recently moved in to my home. It makes me all the more tired.

"When do I get my turn?" I uttered under my breath as I walked back downstairs. I have been saying that to myself more and more lately. I just have been having a little pity for myself. Probably down right feeling sorry for myself.

Oh sure, I explode every so often, shouting and screaming like a mad woman. Slamming doors, crying hysterically, especially around that special time all women have to look forward to. But for the most part, I am happy to accept my motherly duty. I take care of homework, sports, and play dates as well as be my daughter's shoulder to cry on and babysitter to my adorable grandsons.

Mothering my grown daughter has always been a thankless job. With the onset of Manic Depression and rapid cycling plaguing her since she was thirteen years old, we have had a life full of ups and downs. Now she was back home with complicated issues along with two children that need stability.

"When is it my turn?" a thought that was in my head once more. Then the tears came and everyone looked at me like curious deer in a meadow. The look on their faces was showing puzzled innocence. I knew I had to get a grip. Suddenly, I thought of a way to help explain my thoughts and my point of view.

I grabbed the first paper I could find which happened to be the local ads from a nearby drug store. I asked everyone to sit down just for a moment while I went to get a pair of scissors. Even the independent two-year-old was curious.

I began to fold the paper ad and proceeded to cut a chain of paper dolls. As I unfolded the "paper people", four in all, my family giggled. They were sure mom had really lost her mind.

I started a conversation with them as I cut the people apart. " Let's pretend we are these people." I raised my person and cut a piece off of the arm. " I have to do laundry." I announced.

I handed the scissors to my daughter. She was a little puzzled at first. We all laughed a nervous laugh as she brought the scissors to her doll. Following suit, she raised

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