The other night I was working in our finished basement to clean up and organize our spare bedroom in anticipation of my sister’s visit. (! :-D) Sami was helping me. And by this I mean as soon as I’d get a storage bin filled with shoes and properly labeled, she’d immediately set to taking them all out and trying them on—parading out in front of Daddy who was watching tv in the Man Room next door but occasionally popping his head in to check on us. Cleaning with her takes double duty. But it is still more fun than doing it alone.
Anyway, during one of his checks he and I were chatting when I suddenly noticed Sami had unplugged a little nightlight lamp and was preparing to plug it back in. I reacted way too strongly and shouted too loudly at her. I envisioned her having her fingers on the metal part of the plug and getting shocked to the bejesus. But at least it got her attention I guess. I sort of startled her, but then I sat down in front of her at her level and took her hands in mine and explained how doing that could really, really hurt her. And I harkened back to the day when I told her over and over not to touch the hot iron while I was ironing clothes but she did it anyway on purpose. She retains that reference very well because I use it to describe what can happen when she does things she’s not supposed to and she well remembers that it scared and hurt her.
In the middle of my calm explanation part, I saw her chin start to tremble and her little mouth curled down and the bottom lip came out and her emotions overwhelmed her and she began crying. It was the first time I’d seen that. Where the thoughts in her own head, in her little conscience, made her feel so bad that she cried. It was heartwrenching for me but at least I knew I had gotten through to her. Albeit a bit more so than I intended.
Today, she was playing in her room next door to my home office and having an absolute ball with an indoor tent I'd set up for her after stumbling across it while cleaning out some storage areas. Then she came in to me at my desk and asked for juice, which is not unusual. I said, “Okay honey, in a sec I’ll go get you some more.” Then out of the blue it happened again. Something in her thoughts caused the same facial expressions—the curled lip and trembly chin—and she just dumped herself forward onto me to be held and started crying and touching her mouth and saying while crying, “I need more juice. I need more juice.” This is not her usual modus operandi when asking for juice at all. So I said,”Sweetheart? Did you put something in your mouth that you wish you hadn’t?” See because the only other time I’ve seen her touch her mouth like that and ask for juice is when she’s eaten something a little ‘picy as she calls it. “Ye-esss.” More tears.
I felt kind of panicky inside while I ran through in my mind the items she might have gotten into in her room. But they’re few. And I didn’t believe she’d be that compelled to taste Eucerin or Aquaphor which are about the only remotely bad things in her room. I picked her up and went in there and kept trying to get her to tell me what she’d put in her mouth. But once I’d made that big a deal of it she was done answering me in any coherent fashion. I asked about buttons, hair deals (barrettes), etc. And checked to see the Eucerin or Aquaphor were indeed untouched on the changing table. Hmmm. I told Daddy the story on the phone and he guessed bug. At any rate, I went and got her the juice and it was naptime anyway, so we changed her diap and I watched her carefully and smelled her breath. But I don’t think it was anything serious. Just something yucky maybe.
And I made a point of telling her how proud I was that she told me about it even though it was something bad. Which, okay, technically she didn’t really tell me about it. But she kind of conveyed it, and I wanted her to know that if she does do something bad in the future but then needs help, that she can come to me and I’ll help her best I can and act as calm as I can.
Anyway, seeing her crumble like that just about broke my heart. My little sweet thing is beginning to have feelings of conscience, and of right and wrong that come from inside. It makes me want to be able to have her never feel bad. To never have to deal with the consequences of a bad decision. I know how things like that eat at me even after I try to forgive myself for them. But I know she has to learn that for herself. Awk. I can’t stand when her feelings hurt. How the hell am I going to cope with her growing up with so much darkness in the world? I know, I know. It is better not to attempt to protect them from it—she’ll be stronger if I teach her how to cope with it as it comes. But geez.
