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Tonight Shawn had a phone conversation with J's riding instructor. The goal of the conversation was to make it clear that it is problematic for him when she changes their lesson times with only 45 minutes notice. J and I were both a bit nervous at the prospect of this conversation. J was worried that the instructor would be hurt or angry and then be less approachable with her. I was worried about much the same thing, on J's behalf. The instructor is a little emotionally wobbly sometimes.
But Shawn was brilliant. Slightly flirtatous, charming, and very light. And somehow he still delivered the message in a way that must have left the instructor feeling flattered rather than corrected. It was a work of art, and I felt I was in the presence of genius. Sometimes my husband is absolutely brilliant. I want to learn how to talk to people like this.
When I need to correct my students I grin at them and say things like, Stop it or I'll kill you. Or You're lucky you're cute or I'd chop your arms off. This method works well with teenagers; they like the twisted humour. But you cannot say that kind of thing to adults. With adults you have to be more skilled, and I'm not skilled in this way. Not at all.
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E stops by to talk to me at the end of the day. J is hungry and sending me text messages. Hurry up. Stop talking. I want to go home.
E says, I came to see you because I haven't seen you for such a long time. I agree with her. It has been at least a month since we've talked. Then she says, I was worried about you. It seems like you haven't been happy lately. I wonder what she means by that, since she has just noted that we haven't actually seen each other in a long time. I tell her I'm fine, and I mean it. Things are fine.
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6 comments:
I said it a while back, and I will say it again. I think you and S handle everything perfectly. I don't think it is a coincidence that she is more together and she is looked after by you and S. At some point she will ask when her Mum's birthday is, I should think. There seems to be some natural movement, some shifting which happens in children, allowing some sort of space for the next chunk of information or emotion or sets of feelings. Do you find that? Or perhaps they are just in a better position to organise things before it gets all full, and messy, and you forget where you've put everything and whether you dealt with it before you filed it.
I don't know. I just know J is one of the lucky ones.
I was going to say what Nic did, that J's precocious togetherness is surely attributable to being with you and Shawn.
As for the conversations, my daughter whose father died when she was a child appreciates that I remember his birthday and death date. But he died of cancer, which is a very different kind of thing. I don't think there is any one "right" way to handle it, and waiting for her to mention her mother is probably the right treatment for you and J. I do know that you will always do the right thing because you love her and your instincts come from that place.
Nic, I agree with you about natural movement and shifting of emotions. Adults and children both, really. It takes time for us to get settled. We need to move things around and find space for information to fit. Thank you, lovely, for your warm words. They landed right where you aimed them. xx
From one of my favourite writers ever, *Haruki Murakami*, "But inside our heads - at least that's where I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in awhile, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you'll live forever in your own private library.”
Susan, I wonder why I ever doubt my instincts. Mostly they are pretty good, but still I get nervous about whether I'm doing things "right". But it's true that there's probably no right way to do this. I just have to try my best and apologize if I fuck it up, and always have good intentions. Which I do. I have so much respect for you naturally good mommies. xx
In my book, 'naturally good mommies" know when they fuck it up, acknowledge it and apologize. I think my relationship with my own mother would be infinitely better if she could only do that.
Things do sound fine. Better than fine. Losing a mother is a terrible thing for a child, but she is very lucky to have you guys.
So true, an apology goes a very long way. I think my parents' generation believed that they couldn't apologize to children without losing face or something. It's too bad, isn't it, because it does so much to repair damage. Thank you for the encouragement.
I agree with Agent. My parents fucked up so much with me, in my perception of course, not theirs. They never acknowledged it and therefore my hurt feelings were not validated, which is a real confidence destroyer.
As a mother, I also fucked up in ways I profoundly wish I hadn't, but I have apologized profusely over time and I believe my children all know I love them very much. They are all kind people and have forgiven me while I still resent my own parents who are long gone despite knowing how unhealthy this is.
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