My little Buddy got hurt at school today; the teacher called me about an hour after I dropped him off to tell me I needed to come back.
She told me it wasn't a big deal, but as with all accidents, they wanted a parent to come back to the school and look at the injury.
I knew before I went that he would want to come back home with me.
Ironically, he'd been going to get his picture made. When it was his turn, he tripped on the rug / backdrop and fell hitting his head on the wooden chair that was the prop for the picture set.
He has a bit of a goose-egg and has already complained about it being sore. We've done ice and ibuprofen and now Dora the Explorer is trying her hand at making him feel better.
His teacher said he'd been a trooper; that she didn't know how he'd reacted down in the photo room, but that he wasn't still crying when he got back to the classroom. I know my son. I have no doubt, he cried long and hard in that span of a few minutes. My guess is, he didn't want any of his friends to see him crying so he stopped before getting back to the classroom.
When she'd called to tell me about it, the teacher said, "Now don't freak out - he's ok - but Buddy got hurt. Before you get upset, just let me tell you what happened."
After I promised her I'd be there shortly, I hung up and broke down.
I went into the bathroom and sank down on the side of the bathtub, collapsing in my tears. I told God I just didn't know how much more I could handle this week. I confessed I wasn't sure how I would make it through the next 72 hours without lots of assistance.
And I begged for it - assistance from Him.
My husband is in Puerto Rico on a business trip and has been gone since Wednesday morning.
Yesterday was a busy day; one where a stay-at-home Mom like me isn't actually home very much.
Tonight I have a cooking show to conduct with a babysitter coming to stay with my kids and my filthy house.
Tomorrow morning my Mother in Law meets me here at 9am to take Buddy and our dog to her house for the night. I have to drive myself and my daughter back to Myrtle Beach, SC for her last dance competition - plenty of stress and anxiety in and of itself without all this other stuff to go with it.
What's keeping me going is knowing we ALL will be back here together on Sunday and then I can breathe easy again - at least for a little while.
I was struck by the teacher's words this morning...by the time Buddy got back to the classroom, he was composed.
And I did the same thing - DO the same thing.
I fell apart in private, but hid it from everyone else - even my son.
The problem is, I've been doing this so long, I don't even know when it started.
I've always been sensitive, easily hurt in the feelings department, and emotional.
At some point along the way, I realized tears made other people uncomfortable; it sometimes evoked fear or anger; sometimes tears brought pity rather than compassion and I didn't want pity.
So I learned to hide my feelings.
It's pretty impossible to be REAL, OPEN, AUTHENTIC when I'm hiding.
I didn't realize how often I do this.
It's funny how before I had kids, I thought I would be the one teaching them. Most days, quite by accident, they teach me something.
The days I learn about myself from them are the ones I cherish.
It always amazes me that those personality traits about myself and the mannerisms that I wish my kids wouldn't emulate, are the ones they pick up first.
They've seen me do this thing - falling apart and then hiding it. Hiding from their Father, their Grandparents, My friends, even from them. My daughter has gotten the mistaken impression before that I didn't care when she was hurt, because I've trained myself to stay composed and "be strong for the kids."
And I think this hiding is making me sick - physically and emotionally.
I'm tired of hiding.
I can't do it anymore; I just haven't figured out yet where to start to change it.
But I'm asking to be set free...
And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.