Little You Means More to me than All the Pearls in the Sea

"You can't play with us!"I heard the words and ran around the corner in time to see the golden haired bully dole out her blow.  The toy cracked against Kyky's skull and she collapsed to the floor.  This was the pinnacle of almost 2 hours of exclusion and manipulative and downright mean acts against Kylea from this girl. She cried.  She cried like I've never heard her cry.  It was the gut wrenching cry of a bruised body and a broken spirit. I parted her hair and saw the purple bump that had already formed. My insides turned to snakes and my knees shook a strange sensation came over my body. The kind where mothers gain super human strength to lift cars off their children. Mother bear emerged.

  I scooped her up.  I hugged her tight.  I told her it would be alright.  Her offender leered, satisfied that she had succeeded in excluding Kylea. I focused on my small one, fighting off my base instincts, with enormous effort. 

I stroked her silky hair as she sobbed into my shoulder and the room seemed to dissolve in front of me.  Into memories I fell. Or more appropriately emotions.  Drowning in grief and rage.  The pain of every exclusion, insult and put-down of my past compounded on me like some kind of sick twist on empathy.

NO!  Not my baby!  Not my vibrant, smart, kind and beautiful baby.  Not this child that we have raised so mindfully.  My every living moment since her first breath has been dedicated to building her up.  We nursed and cuddled we walked the floors.  We take deep breaths and timeouts.  We whisper instead of yell. We teach, we supervise, and we understand that we are raising a person and not just managing a child. We have been so dedicated that the realization that not everyone shares this goal was like a punch to the gut. Like someone sucked all the air out of the room.  

Shakey and unsure that I could maintain my composure, I fumbled over my words as I gathered our things and made my way to the car with a weighty pit in my stomach.

We drove home.  I turned on her favorite song and she sang along.  Then she says, "Mommy?"  I turn the music down and gaze at her tear-stained face in the rear view mirror.  "yes, love?"
"why my friend hit my head?"

What to say? This was the first time she's ever been acted on hatefully or violently, to my knowledge. It must be bewildering.  Today we learn that the world is not filled with friends and good people who take care of us and love us.  Today we learn that there are people who are mean.  People who hurt us. People who are NOT our friends. Today we lose just a little bit of that childhood innocence.

I answered as simply as I could, "She is NOT your friend. Friends are people who make us feel good. Friends are people who treat us with kindness."

It made me unspeakably sad to have to go there.  It occurs to me that this is just the first of many times that people will treat her this way.  There will be more offenders. People who hurt on accident and people who hurt you and smile when they see your broken spirit. This is unfortunately part of the human experience. You'll ask why. You'll wonder why me?

 So, to future Kyky and Neila I'll say, I can't tell you why.  I don't know.  I do know that it's because they're hurting and jealous.  And I can tell you that no matter how much it hurts, it's always a lie.

My mind flies away to a fictional land created by Kathryn Stockett, in The Help.  A land where Aibleen scoops up tiny Mae Mobley who is ceaselessly bullied by her self-centered mother and whispers.

"You is Kind.  You is smart. You is important."

That's what all this effort is for.  I can't protect you from all the storms and evil of the world.  I can't create a world where bad people can't get to you. 

I can celebrate the good parts with you. And I can tell you over and over, you are kind.  You are smart. You are important and you are fiercely loved by me and most of all by your Heavenly Father.  I can tell you until you internalize it.  Until you understand your inherent worth.  I can repeat it until it becomes an irrefutable part if you. I can repeat it until the day when no matter who comes along trying to drag you down that they won't succeed.  You are priceless and wonderful and a gift to everyone you meet.  And THAT is the truth.

*addendum*

I've had a huge number of people contact me privately about why I didn't DO something. I didn't even know so many people read this! 

Rest assured, I contacted the mother and was very candid about the situation and definitely overstepped my boundaries in offering what I felt were fair consequences. I also removed kyky from the situation so no further emotional or physical abuse would occur. The mother was very apologetic. All is well. 

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Lots of times motherhood is hard. My most recent frustration has been solving the mystery of the black hole in my house. You know, the place where everything disappears, especially; cords to every little-used electronic device, left shoes and hair ties. The only person to recover items from the mysterious hart family Bermuda Triangle is, kylea. So yes it's tough. But even though it's  frustrating that 3 year olds can't seem to remember that crayons don't go up your nose and tiger growling at your baby sister isn't nice they seem to intuitively "get" things that we grown-ups just don't. 

I took the girls to the grocery store to get a few items we were low on today. The girls giggled and kyky copied Neila's screech sounds and then they giggled some more. As I was making my way to the register I saw another mom pushing her two children in the cart that looks like a car. The child in the driver's seat was crying loudly. I thought to myself, "I'm glad my girls aren't doing that today." And gave the mom a smile hoping to convey solidarity. 

We wheeled up to the register and ky helped me unload the cart in her typical animated fashion. She sniffed things and made dramatic yucky faces or exaggerated yummy faces complete with licking her lips for each item respectively before she tossed them onto the conveyor belt. 

Before we finished, the mother with the crying child pulled her cart up behind mine. Her child was still crying. I noticed the year stained face belonged to a little girl, probably 3 years old. I noticed her quivering lip as she tried to pull herself together, I noticed how cute the bow in her hair was, I also noticed she had Down syndrome.

Kylea didn't notice any of that. The second the cart pulled up behind her kyky smiled brightly and said, "hello friend!!" She then excitedly showed her the dragon fruit that we were purchasing and a few other of her favorite items. The girl smiled she didn't respond with words but her tears dried and in their place was a giant smile. 

And a little child shall lead them. Lead them to a place where our differences don't make us too different to be instant friends.