Sunday

As much as I wanted to keep the spirit of soothing Sundays alive and well, I found it very difficult to keep with the theme.   A psychologist once said that parents should never cry in front of their children. This Sunday I violated that should and cried in front of my kids.

I didn't want them to see me a teary-eyed mess.  I'm sure that it is unsettling to see a parent cry, especially one that is usually rather stoic.  My tears had a life of their own.   I couldn't stop them so I was forced to make the best out of a less than ideal situation. 

I tried to model emotional honesty.  I told them I was upset and why.  I told them that I would be fine but that I needed to cry and get my feelings out.   Tears return as I remember their reaction.      They showed me a tenderness and a strength, I don't often get to see.  They balanced my sorrow with their love.    In the midst of a great disappointment, they showed me how lucky I am. 

As much as I'd like to protect them from the sorrows and disappointments in life, I can't.  If I protect them too much, they will never learn resilence or how recognize their own strength.  I hated falling apart in front of them.  At first, they tried to cheer me up with reassurances of their love. 

Then my son tried to make me laugh.  He reminded me how I laughed at a skit on TV.  One of the characters called himself, "Turd Ferguson."   I smile through the tears and tell them,   "I just need a little time to pull myself together."

Leaving the freeway for the backroads helped.    Gliding over the old road home with the windows rolled down, my head began to clear.  A new respect for my children was born.    They comforted me and then let the van fill with an easy silence as I worked through my feelings.  We stopped and I splurged on Frappicinos.  "Are you feeling better, Mom?"
"Yes," I reply. 
"I'm going to be alright."

Today, I showed them how human I was.  They had the opportunity to soothe and comfort me and I had the opportunity to let them for just a little while.