Today, I made my littlest girl cry. Of course, she cries often. She's three. And often, one way or another, I'm the source of her cry. But today, I let her down.
There was no great consequence. And it was a small mistake. When I drop her off at preschool, I stay for "5 minutes and a bonus." (A third-time-around ritual.) When time's up, we hug and kiss at the Goodbye Window. Then I go out the door, over to the Window, and she talks about pick-up time through the pane. Will I get her before I get Clara or after? She's happy, and I go.
June generally is happy. She's confident in a way that the others were not at preschool. Will and Clara had some obvious and unusual coping mechanisms. Will sat on a stump for entire days. Clara hid behind my skirt up until her last day. June, however, stepped right in and enjoyed it. In her sweet life, she is pretty much with me, or she's at school two short mornings a week. The transitions are smooth. She just needs our rituals.
Today, I just forgot. I got preoccupied talking to parents, paying my bill, thinking about what I was going to do that morning, thinking about something small. Twenty plus minutes later, I look up as I'm backing out, and there's June. Climbing out of the window, into the arms of her teacher. Sobbing. Hurt. Crushed. She waited the entire 25 minutes. She knew I'd be there. And I forgot.
I felt a ton of bricks in my chest. The teacher passed her off to me, and I brought her into the car and cuddled her until the sobs stopped. Time passed, and she chose to stay. I had a second chance.
With June, as with the others, I am guilty of my own pretend play. I pretend that no one has to be let down. Really let down. By loved ones or not. We talk about things, like their grandfather's death, or a hurt bird, or missing parents in a book. Disappointment creeps in. We get windows to sadness. To loss. To suffering. But we're always on the safe side of the window.
Today, she looked for me through that little window, and I forgot her. It was just an instance. A small, uncomplicated instance of how we let each other down.
June is fine. She knows I love her like crazy. And I've moved on, too. We all try. I just wish I had remembered.
Here is the Goodbye Window and my sweet girl on better days.
Oh, Alice, a sweet/sad story. This is an event that YOU will probably remember long after SHE forgets it1 Love your blog!
ReplyDeleteAlice, I have tears in my eyes too - just feeling how YOU felt. I'm glad all ended well after all and that June stayed and the day continued normally. Disappointments are a part of life that "haunt" us sometimes, but mothers like you have a way of making their children feel better . WELCOME THAT. I'll email you a Nana story that she told several times. Love -
ReplyDelete't was probably harder on you than on her...
ReplyDeleteI remember that goodby window. It is funny how kids need those little rituals to keep their support systems in tact. I still get upset thinking about the year we dropped Jeff off for his freshman year at Tufts. He had to go in one direction and we in another to hear the parent's address. We promised that we would meet afterwards. The talk was longer than expected and we had a deadline to get to Boston College to unload Kai into her dorm. We couldn't meet with him and have an offical good bye because of the deadline. He was on his own.
ReplyDelete