Not quite a fairy tale
Once upon a time, there was a mother who had a very sensitive little boy. The boy observed and interacted with the world in a way that was different than other children. Everyone who knew the boy knew he was smart and kind. Because he was her first, and because she was sensitive and bit different, too, the mother may have protected her boy a bit more than other mothers do.
The boy crawled, walked and talked just as he was supposed to. He started preschool. He learned shapes, colors and letters and made many new friends. His teachers loved him, and even though some days he would cry and cry, he continued to learn and was happy to go to school. No one understood why he cried so much, but they understood that the boy was good and would do things in his own time. His teacher once said about him, "There are enough followers in the world. Let yours take his own path." When the mother worried, the teachers explained that his behavior was normal and that they would take care of him.
The best friends he made were the ones that understood that even though some days were crying days, he was still a nice boy who shared, never fought, and loved to play with cars, trains and the tools and materials of construction. These friends also happened to have the nicest moms who understood what it meant to have a boy who was not exactly like the other boys.
The mother quickly learned that not every mom felt the same.
In fact, one mom made quite a few mentions, in passing of course, of how the boy was different, how perhaps the teachers were not helping him to manage his feelings and how the other children noticed and teased the boy, and that maybe the mother should do something about it. The mother was sad, and scared, and had many conferences with the teachers and administrators to discuss her special boy. As much as she wanted to believe that it was not the other mom's business, she had a lot of feelings of her own to manage and couldn't help wondering if maybe the other mom was right?
Days passed, and one sunny morning a group of the nicest children had a play date at the park. When the boy and his mother were playing, she accidentally knocked him into a tree and he cried. One of the special friends, perhaps frustrated from being in defense of him on so many other days, scolded him, "[Boy], STOP CRYING ALREADY!" The mother was quick to correct the child, "[Friend], he bumped into a tree and it hurt. It's okay for him to cry, and it's not okay for you to talk to him that way."
Caught by her quick reaction to correct another's child, she rushed to the other mom and explained apologetically what she had said. The other mom considered the exchange, reasoned that an apology wasn't necessary, that in fact, her child was out of line, and followed with, "But he does cry a lot. Have you had him evaluated?"
The mother was incensed. She was hurt and felt judged. She defended her child, her actions, justified all that she had done, and walked away. It was enough, the final straw. She decided that the two moms were simply not destined to be friends, that it was not her job to explain to the other mom exactly how and why she was wrong, and quietly hoped that the mom would not influence her child, the boy's friend, to feel differently about him.
She never had him evaluated. She discussed him at length with his teachers, his pediatrician, the school's director and an educational psychologist (who evaluated only his readiness for Kindergarten as required by his new school and not his bouts of emotional fragility) and they all felt confident that what was normal for this boy, while still not like other children, was nothing of concern.
Months passed and the boy matured. His crying days were less and less. While the mother continued to spend time with the mothers who understood, she still bore a grudge against the mom who so casually suggested there was something wrong with her child, believing that statements of that nature are both caustic and inflammatory. She remained civil and pleasant, careful to keep her feelings removed from the children's enduring friendship. As the children enrolled at different schools, and their younger siblings were in different preschool classes, she no longer faced the daily reminder of the other mom's scrutiny.
When the mother had at last let go of the once offensive incidents and her feelings of disdain for the other mom, the two met again. They hugged hello and goodbye, extending well wishes to each other's children.
The next day, the mother pieced together bits of knowledge from a vague but friendly e-mail from the other mom and an overheard conversation from the night before, and her head began to spin.
The other child of the other mom is a different kind of boy, too, but hers has been evaluated and won't be coming back to preschool right now.
How quickly we judge. How quickly we become victims, hurt and distanced. How quick we are to protect ourselves when perhaps we should have offered a listening ear or a helping hand instead.
How quickly we go from being wronged to just being wrong.
How quickly our idea of a happy ending changes.
The boy crawled, walked and talked just as he was supposed to. He started preschool. He learned shapes, colors and letters and made many new friends. His teachers loved him, and even though some days he would cry and cry, he continued to learn and was happy to go to school. No one understood why he cried so much, but they understood that the boy was good and would do things in his own time. His teacher once said about him, "There are enough followers in the world. Let yours take his own path." When the mother worried, the teachers explained that his behavior was normal and that they would take care of him.
The best friends he made were the ones that understood that even though some days were crying days, he was still a nice boy who shared, never fought, and loved to play with cars, trains and the tools and materials of construction. These friends also happened to have the nicest moms who understood what it meant to have a boy who was not exactly like the other boys.
The mother quickly learned that not every mom felt the same.
In fact, one mom made quite a few mentions, in passing of course, of how the boy was different, how perhaps the teachers were not helping him to manage his feelings and how the other children noticed and teased the boy, and that maybe the mother should do something about it. The mother was sad, and scared, and had many conferences with the teachers and administrators to discuss her special boy. As much as she wanted to believe that it was not the other mom's business, she had a lot of feelings of her own to manage and couldn't help wondering if maybe the other mom was right?
Days passed, and one sunny morning a group of the nicest children had a play date at the park. When the boy and his mother were playing, she accidentally knocked him into a tree and he cried. One of the special friends, perhaps frustrated from being in defense of him on so many other days, scolded him, "[Boy], STOP CRYING ALREADY!" The mother was quick to correct the child, "[Friend], he bumped into a tree and it hurt. It's okay for him to cry, and it's not okay for you to talk to him that way."
Caught by her quick reaction to correct another's child, she rushed to the other mom and explained apologetically what she had said. The other mom considered the exchange, reasoned that an apology wasn't necessary, that in fact, her child was out of line, and followed with, "But he does cry a lot. Have you had him evaluated?"
The mother was incensed. She was hurt and felt judged. She defended her child, her actions, justified all that she had done, and walked away. It was enough, the final straw. She decided that the two moms were simply not destined to be friends, that it was not her job to explain to the other mom exactly how and why she was wrong, and quietly hoped that the mom would not influence her child, the boy's friend, to feel differently about him.
She never had him evaluated. She discussed him at length with his teachers, his pediatrician, the school's director and an educational psychologist (who evaluated only his readiness for Kindergarten as required by his new school and not his bouts of emotional fragility) and they all felt confident that what was normal for this boy, while still not like other children, was nothing of concern.
Months passed and the boy matured. His crying days were less and less. While the mother continued to spend time with the mothers who understood, she still bore a grudge against the mom who so casually suggested there was something wrong with her child, believing that statements of that nature are both caustic and inflammatory. She remained civil and pleasant, careful to keep her feelings removed from the children's enduring friendship. As the children enrolled at different schools, and their younger siblings were in different preschool classes, she no longer faced the daily reminder of the other mom's scrutiny.
When the mother had at last let go of the once offensive incidents and her feelings of disdain for the other mom, the two met again. They hugged hello and goodbye, extending well wishes to each other's children.
The next day, the mother pieced together bits of knowledge from a vague but friendly e-mail from the other mom and an overheard conversation from the night before, and her head began to spin.
The other child of the other mom is a different kind of boy, too, but hers has been evaluated and won't be coming back to preschool right now.
How quickly we judge. How quickly we become victims, hurt and distanced. How quick we are to protect ourselves when perhaps we should have offered a listening ear or a helping hand instead.
How quickly we go from being wronged to just being wrong.
How quickly our idea of a happy ending changes.
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8 comments:
Honest and true post. Compassion should be the first thing we all teach our children and maybe then we will all remember to practice what we preach.
Oh my. I never would have guessed that ending. Hindsight is 20-20, though, and there is no way for you to have known. She didn't share her concern for her own child, which could have been a bridge for both of you. So don't be so hard on yourself. Now you do know - and what matters is what you do now, not what you thought then.
Indeed, not the ending I expected. It is a shame she did not share just a little bit more, perhaps you would have been able to maintain your friendship on that level. But as Adrienne astutely said, what really matters is what happens next.
These things are so delicate. Out of concern for a friend who was struggling, myself and another mother brought up the possibility that her son could benefit from "evaluation." It was a mistake. She was not ready to consider the possibility. Our friendship will never be the same. Certainly it is a parent's job to make those decisions, but it can be hard to be a friend who only wants to support them.
You can't be hard on yourself (says she who probably would have been hard on herself too, but even so...).
I think that in our efforts to protect and do right by our children, it is natural for things like this between parents to happen. All you can do is take what you know now and move forward.
XO to you my dear friend,
P
I think you should be grateful that you have a sensitive child. He will grow to be a sensitive adult. I can't see anything wrong with that!
different is better, Karen. As momma bears, we are always quick to defend out little ones, so don't feel bad. What a wonderful husband and father your boy will make someday.
Well, I hope this other mom learns the value of witholding judgment.
Don't be hard on yourself at all. We're here to advocate for our kids and when someone judges one of our cubs, it's hard not to lash out. And it sounds like you distanced yourself with grace.
I had a friend who told me "something wasn't right" about my girls because they would run around in circles and chant the same thing over and over when they were playing a game. They did this a few times a week.
I distanced myself from her, too. I just wish she could see how "right" my girls are now. Sigh.
Motherhood/Womanhood are hard to twine together sometimes.
interesting sitution. it's hard for me to totally understand the reaction you (and other Mom's apparently) had to the observation that your child might benefit from evaluation. then again, i started having babies when i was 18, inexperienced, and so was a much less complex person. i listened to my aunties who said he was "an artist at heart". as it turned out for us, we most definately needed to see where we could identify ways to help my son early on. now, my heart breaks every day for not learning about his many mental health and learning challenges. he is having a very difficult journey, but at least he does not have to live in a facility.
a very bright girl once told me that what people say to us usually is coming from a place that really has less to do with us than we initially believe. i think she is right.
nice blog, btw. =)
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