I’m the first to admit my kids have it pretty easy. I expect them to
help keep their toys and clothes picked up a bit, and to be responsible
for their schoolwork, but I don’t make them do scheduled chores. I
remember how hard it was sometimes just to be a kid, and when I see them
playing in the yard or creating a pretend restaurant for their stuffed
animals or spinning in circles and just being kids, it makes me
incredibly happy. They are still so innocent and sweet and I want them
to enjoy that. It doesn’t last long, and they will have the rest of
their lives to work hard and know unpleasant truths about the world.
They are good and kind little people, and I want them to look back on
childhood as a loving, creative time with a lot of freedom. I was lucky
enough to have had that kind of childhood. I want that kind of
foundation for my kids, too. They take a lot of things for granted, but
only because they don’t know anything different. And every now and
then my kids stumble against some other reality that they find jarring,
and I am amazed at how sensitive they are.
Aden has always been incredibly empathetic. From the time she was a
baby she hated to see me upset, and she is deeply affected by the
suffering of others, especially children or animals. When she’s moved
by the plights of others she often comes up with creative ways of trying
to help, usually by drawing people pictures or creating little plates
of food for them. I found out the other day that she gave away all of
her birthday money to the charity drive happening in her class. I asked
her why she didn’t have money to buy the Yu-Gi-Oh cards she wanted, and
she said when the funds came up short for the kid her class sponsored
to buy him warm clothes for winter, she emptied her piggy bank and
donated every last dime. It made me proud. I don’t know how much
credit I can take, but I’d like to see this as evidence that I’m raising
her right.
But it’s hard to know. With Aden it may just be innate. We read a
book in the Magic Tree House series for a new parent/child book club
we’re a part of, and there was a description of New York during the
Great Depression. The Magic Tree House books are pretty tame. There is
some suspense but no one really gets hurt and problems are solved
quickly, yet they still make my kids nervous. The moment things aren’t
going well, one or both of my girls will insist I tell them it comes out
okay so they can relax and listen to the story. The descriptions of
the Great Depression were mostly soup lines and people without adequate
clothes for a blizzard–nothing too graphic–but Aden couldn’t take it.
“This book is too sad, mom,” she kept saying, tears streaming down her
face. “What’s going to happen to all of those people?”
I tried to tell
her about how her grandparents on my mom’s side of the family lived
through the Great Depression right here in Milwaukee. How her
great-grandma’s family had to sell their piano, and great-grandpa had to
drop out of school to make money on a farm to support his parents and
siblings, but it all worked out eventually. Aden just kept wiping at
the tears on her face and saying, “I don’t want to hear this book
anymore.” We did finish the story (I told her we had to if we wanted to
go to the book club), but I had to keep pointing out the positive
elements to string her along.
The stories out of Haiti since the earthquake have been particularly
hard for her. I often watch the news while preparing dinner, and Aden
was transfixed by a story about an orphanage in Port-au-Prince. I think
it cuts too close to home for her. She doesn’t have to imagine what
it’s like to have one parent gone, and she’s fearful of the idea that
something could happen to me. I tried to point out that in the news
story there were kind and generous people from all over the world who
had come to help those orphans, and we should be happy there are such
people in the world, but Aden put her arms around me and sobbed, “But I
wouldn’t want another mother. I want you.” I told her I was very
careful crossing the street and would do my best to be around a long
time. When she was satisfied that we were going to be okay, she asked
what we could do to help the orphans in Haiti.
Mona wasn’t born with the same level of empathy her sister was. For
the first couple of years of her life I was a little worried about how
oblivious she was to the feelings of others, mostly because I was used
to Aden. Mona continues to dance along through life keeping herself
amused, but in recent years she has developed an incredibly sensitive
streak. Most often it’s about herself, but it was surprising when it
first surfaced. You used to be able to say anything to or about Mona
and she would smile and move on, but now if she thinks anyone is being
critical she bursts into tears and runs to her room. She cares about
the opinions of others in a way she never used to. Her reaction to
accidentally hurting other people is to get angry and sullen. It’s hard
for her to deal with the guilt of making her sister sad or
disappointing her mother. If I express frustration with her about
anything she gets very huffy and can’t look at me.
When sad things happen to other people unconnected to Mona, that
doesn’t usually affect her much, so I was shocked the other day when she
cried during a movie. I was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner
and I’d told the kids they could go upstairs and watch a Pokemon DVD
we’d just rented. After a little while there were wailing sobs from
Mona and I thought she was injured. I raced upstairs expecting to see
broken bones or blood, but Mona was under a blanket, crying
uncontrollably, with Aden and Quinn patting her lightly and saying it
was going to be okay. Apparently one character had sacrificed its life
for another and it was too traumatic for her. Aden kept saying the
character wasn’t really dead because part of his essence had been passed
on to the other character (I have no idea about the details because I
just can’t bring myself to sit through a Pokemon movie), but Mona kept
weeping. She curled up in my lap (as much as her six-year-old self will
fit there anymore) and I stroked her hair until she calmed down.
Mona had a scary accident back when she was two that caused part of
her face to get badly scratched up. Due to the miraculous healing
powers of toddlers you can’t tell, except when she cries. When Mona is
really upset I can see the ghostly image of those scratches appear
across her forehead and cheek. I held her until those little pink marks
faded again, and then offered to read her some Amelia Bedelia books to
make her laugh. She liked that, and cheered up considerably, but looked
sad again when I tucked her in to go to sleep. Mona has declared she
won’t watch that movie again. Aden’s emotions may be close to the
surface, but I think Mona’s run deep because they are so strong and she
needs to be insulated from them a bit in order to function.
Quinn is only three, and most of his tears are related to being
tired. He’s very cooperative and self-sufficient so he doesn’t get told
‘no’ very often. The minute he does, though, and if he is overdue for a
nap, his face dissolves into sadness and the tears flow freely. On the
sensitivity scale he is definitely closer to the Aden end of the
continuum. He hates to see me sad. He hates to see his sisters sad. I
love my sensitive little guy.
The tricky thing from my perspective right now is trying to figure
out how much Ian’s deployment may or may not be influencing any of their
tears. Back in 2006 we had to have both our pet bunnies put to sleep
around the same time their dad left for Iraq. Often that year Aden
would start off being sad about the bunnies, and it would turn into a
crying fit about her dad. There was too much loss in her life at one
time, and there were days it overwhelmed her.
This time I think I’m
doing a better job of keeping them occupied. I know it’s hard for them
to see other kids with their dads, but they aren’t as quick to tell
random people this time that they have a dad too. I used to think
families living on a base were at an advantage in terms of support
during a deployment, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t think being
surrounded by reminders of what you don’t have is very useful. We are
always looking ahead toward fun things coming up, like the book club or
movie night or events at the school. We talk about all the fun things
we’ll do when their dad gets back, and I only bring up their dad in a
positive light. There haven’t been any crying fits about their dad this
deployment, but it’s possible they were disguised as tears over Pokemon
characters. It’s hard to know.
I like that my children are sensitive. I know it makes them more
vulnerable in the world at large, but they are so willing to help others
that I believe the connections they form because of that will provide
them with great strength in the long run. I love them. I know that’s
the most unoriginal thing ever posted to a mommy blog, but it’s true. I
love my kids more than I know how to say it, tears and all.
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