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Posts Tagged ‘mom’

Six year old help

I love it when my kids want to help!

They’re involved, spending their time with me.

They are learning new skills.

But, if that help comes from a six year old,  I have to admit a lot of times it doesn’t feel like help.

So here’s another of my creations that came to be after three children…and countless hours of cleaning up the messes that arose from the generous ‘help’:

6 Year Old – Help 100_4378

I’ll get my own glass

CRASH!

I’ll serve my own soup

OOPS!

Let me help you and I’ll carry this

SPLISH! SPLASH! SPLISH!

I’ll pour my own juice

SPLOOSH!

I’ll carry the sack

CRACK!

Let me help too, I will help hang it

BANG! CLANG! DANG IT!100_4379

I’m big enough now

OW!

I’ll care for the cat

SPLAT!

I know I can do it. Let me help you

SORRY!  SORRY!  OOOOOOOO!

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If mom can’t save the day, than who can??? 

Me…the mom…saved me…the kid…today! 

Here’s the story:

Yesterday, a friend shared with me a poem written by her daughter.  It was a beautiful poem about the modern day hero that is mom.  Part of the poem spoke about mom always being there when she was needed the most.  As I heard it, I became aware of a deep, hidden pain of my inner child.  At nine years old, after the unexpected death of my sister, I received no emotional support in dealing with my grief. My mother, unable to deal with the emotions of losing a child herself, ‘left’ us for a while and was admitted into an emotional recovery ward at a hospital. My father, also lost in his own grief and responsibilities of work, provided no discussion or support. I was actually told by my grandmother never to talk about it in front of my parents so as to not give them any additional pain. And I didn’t. At a time when I needed them the most, my parents were not there. I was all alone to grieve and figure it out myself. I was alone with the responsibility of making sure I did not hurt them any more than they were already hurting.  I was alone,  convinced that my own needs and feelings did not matter.

Now this is not about throwing around woes and blame. 

As an adult, I have worked through this and have gained an understanding of what my parents may have experienced and have forgiven them for ‘deserting’ me. Having children of my own, I can only begin to imagine the depth of pain they encountered upon losing a child and do not know how much I would ‘lose it’ myself if I lost one of my children.

What I hadn’t seen before today is how this experience had set up a pattern of belief at my core that I am alone and worthless. I am alone in my feelings. I do not really matter and I might as well be invisible…no one really cares about me…I am not important, but everyone else’s feelings are.  I see how I have replayed this belief over and over again in my life like a scratched record…All the times I have said or thought, “No one really cares…It doesn’t matter if I’m here or not…What I do is just not important to anyone.”  I can see how much of my adult ‘whining bitch’ (a term lovingly coined by a friend) and ‘woe is me’ energy was really my child screaming to be noticed and acknowledged. She wanted a pity party. She wanted everyone to know how bad things were for her and she wanted recognition and most of all love.

My little girl had never healed. The situation had taken away her sense of mattering to the world because if she really mattered, her needs would have been addressed, she would have been giving loving comfort and understanding. She has grieved the loss of her sister, but has never grieved the loss of her own self worth. All this time, she has merely wanted her own deep pain to be recognized and to matter. She has wanted someone…anyone…to acknowledge her. To tell her that her feelings matter. That she herself…matters. She needed mom to tell her that although we were all in pain, she was glad that I was still alive, that it mattered to the world…that it mattered to her that I was still around.

My mother has passed away and I will not get that need met through her…or from anyone outside of myself. I see now that it is myself, myself as a mother, who must heal this.

So as I type this…me, the 43 year old mother of 3…I am holding little 9 year old Vicki close to my own heart and saying lovingly and gently to her, “I see you! I see your pain! I know I told you to look after your little sister, but you are not responsible for this. You are not responsible for her death. We are all hurting so deeply over this, but my grief does not in any way take away from the love and appreciation that I feel for you. I am so glad that you are still in my life. The sadness and pain seems overwhelming some days, but your smile still warms my heart and I can never tell you how much your presence on earth means to me. You are so special to me! I love you so very, very much! I am so blessed to still have you in my life, beautiful Vicki. We can get through the pain together…our pain will pass, but the love that I feel for you will not!!! Thank you for being a part of my life and blessing me with your own unique, beautiful light and bright spirit. MOM

…And HERO MOM saved the day today for a little 9 year old inside of herself!  Little Vicki is feeling much better and for the first time in many years does not feel quite so alone…

Thank you for taking the time to read this transformative story.  Please leave any comments or share your own ‘hero mom’ story.  I would love to hear about all the hero mom’s!  Together we mom’s can save the day, and maybe even the world!!!

 

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