Today began like any other day. We spent far too much time looking for our shoes, even though I remind both kids to use the under-the-stairs cubbies each time they take them off. We argued over what shirt would be worn in order to be warm enough in this weather. And just when tension was rising, Charlotte turned to me and said, “Mommy, I’m going to make you a card.”
My face lit up, thinking perhaps my recent lessons about starting with kindness may be working. Then she continues, “How do I spell, ‘I don’t love you?’”
Edward Bulwer-Lytton was right. Words have the potential to do much greater harm than weapons. Such a simple sentence, yet it cut straight to the heart. My first inclination was to be hurt and sad. I told her so, and I saw her face drop even more, which was not my intention either. She had wanted to hurt me, sure, but she hadn’t really understood the levity of her chosen words.
And that soon became today’s biggest slap in the face. Not that she was hurt enough to say those words, because she really hadn’t been, but that I have a child old enough to even want to formulate a proverbial slap in the face.
I officially have a big girl on my hands, this I know now. Which, as my initial sense of feeling unloved is over, shocks me. And also saddens me in its own rite. I have been guilty of rushing this parenting thing along from the getgo.
“I can’t wait for them to sleep through the night.”
“I can’t wait for her to be potty trained.”
“Ugh, the moment the paci is gone is the moment I’m free!”
But the busier life remains, the hastier time seems to wane. And parenthood can make even an empty schedule full in an instant. So, there went five years and with that barb, “I don’t love you,” they feel incredibly distant.
I shed a few tears, I’ll admit. She saw me crying. What she didn’t understand that I was no longer really hurt, just grieving her babyhood.
So, I chose to be open with her. I told her she hurt me, and saying that sort of thing wasn’t OK. But, that wasn’t really why I was crying. I told her that she is my daughter forever and I am her mommy for just about double that. And that it was already going by in the blink of an eye.
She hugged me. We made up, and by the time I dropped her off at school we were belting an MJ duet at the top of our lungs. I realized that this snarkiness may be 5, but that 6 will be here before I know it. And although time does not discriminate the speed at which it seems to progress, it does give us the gift of retrospection and introspection. And a lot of make-up hugs.