A short story of empathy – not entirely mine

I have heard, “you are a mean, miserable, awful, terrible mom,” many times before.  And now I have taken to agreeing with Anna.  It seems to take the air out of her sail and to speak quite honestly - it also takes the sting out of her punch.

The other night Anna and I walked and skipped and ran and played tag – and she teased that I was a terrible and horrible mom and that really she would like to run away from home some day.  The walking and skipping and running and playing tag had all taken their oxygen toll so I agreed. “I am terrible, and really I am also very tired.  This being a mom is hard work.  In fact would you mind running away from home?  Maybe tomorrow so I can get some rest?”  

I laughed at all of this as we continued our walk/skip/run/tag and she laughed and then she stopped.  And in all the frankness a 6 year old can muster, she replied. “I’m sorry mom, I can’t leave.  You decided to have me.  And now you have to take care of me.  I am your responsibility.”  I turned, stunned, as I looked in the mirror and heard my anxious self speak out loudly and clearly all my fears and craziness.  But I tucked those fears down deep; and instead plumed with pride that she had used my responsibility line, and used it well.  I laughed again and said, “but really, I’m tired.  You don’t have to leave for long, and then you can come back.”   I continued the walk/skip/run/tag rhythm as she caught up with me, grabbed me full and yelled, “Nooooo, I’m all yours and you have to keep me.”  I relinquished, in hugs and laughter.

I retold the story to my father today.   Proud of my kid that she nailed me with words I have used so often to keep her attentive to her belongings.  My father listened, he chuckled, he then interrupted, “listen kid, as soon as possible, you sit Anna down, hold her hands and tell her that last night was all joking.  That you love her and you never want her to run away.  Little people, though laughing with you, can be more sensitive than you realize.”  I nodded, “yeah – sure – okay.”  Then I thought how wonderful to have my dad - my dad who can recognize my mistakes in parenting and help me fix them. 

I don’t know if he recognized the error and knew the fix because his children have said at no particular time and with little provocation, “you are mean and terrible and awful and I am running away.”  Or, if it was because there were other times when his children had recounted stories of profound pain that to him were just times of pulling the emotional legs of his children.  Or, if it was none of the above, it was simply third person grandparent clarity.  Or maybe, it was all of the above.

So, tonight I sat Anna down, I held her hands, and I said I was sorry for teasing and joking last night.  “I love you and I don’t want you to run away. “  And Anna in all her emotional wisdom replied, “Thanks mom, cause that was kind-a mean.”   I gasped under my breath and started “I’m sorry kiddo.  I won’t tease you about running away again.  Now can I ask a favor?  Will you stop telling me I’m a horrible, terrible, mean, and awful mom?” 

And again with all sincerity Anna replied, “I don’t ever say it and mean it, I know it isn’t true.  So, let’s do this - whenever one of us says something mean to the other one we have to pay them a dollar.”  We shook hands and hugged.  And we both promised to try our best.