February 4, 2010

It’s really not that hard to make a mommy cry.

The other day was the preschool zoo fieldtrip. My little Rexy, 4, is about the cutest, sweetest, least naughty child you’ve ever met. He’s also anxious. Terribly, terribly anxious.

He was all set to go with my dear friend and neighbor, Miss Tricia, as his chaperone, since I have a 2-year-old who can’t follow directions and would have happily attacked the hippos. But the day of, Tricia came down with strep throat and had to cancel. I tried every mom I could think of to take June, but apparently they were all going on the field trip.

No problem, I thought. He knows at least three of them well. Oh, how simple it all sounded in my head.

Rex’s preschool teacher is a gem — with kids. She’s no-nonsense, down-to-business, fun, organized energy, and the kids absolutely adore her. Frankly, it’s a good thing she works with children because her grown up people skills are kind of … lacking.

After a small anxiety attack on Rex’s part as we left the house, I started to panic. It’s a big day, taking a school bus for the first time, going to the zoo with strangers — he needed familiarity. He needed someone who would be kind and love him. He needed me.

We pulled in, and I decided to cut right to the chase.

“Hi,” I said to his teacher, “I’m so sorry I can’t make it today, but I was thinking that Rex will do fine if he can just go with someone he knows. There are three moms on your list that he’s …”

“Look, I have a lot to do. Who are they?” Yikes.

“Well, there’s …” and I listed them off. She shot down each name without even blinking. Finally she cut me off and said, “I don’t have time for this! This is how kids get left behind, you know!” And then she stormed off.

I was stunned. Sick. Wanted to pack up my precious little blond angel and take him home. Unfortunately that angel was seriously stoked to see the elephants.

My mommy instincts said to stand up for him, demand he get equal representation. But instead I started to cry. All over the car I cried. Big, ugly girl tears.

In no time Rex was by my side, patting my head, “Don’t cry, Mommy,” he said, totally distressed that I was leaking all over his new shoes. I couldn’t seem to stop. He seemed so little and vulnerable, and I was supposed to hand him off to someone who didn’t even care?

I wanted to yell, or at least take my boy and run. Instead I just sat there, like a big, blubbering mother goose, crying all over Rex’s shoulder.

And suddenly I saw it. There I was, wondering how to protect him, and during my entire self-feeding internal dialogue, he patted my head and cared for me. Talk about your role reversal.

In the end, his teacher felt bad (because seriously, I was a mess) and took him as her personal charge. But I realized something about him. He might be anxious and he might be vulnerable, but there is strength there, enough to lend a comforting word and a soft touch when his mommy needed it.

Eventually, our kids will turn the tables on us and grow up; I guess we have to know when to let them. I saw just a little of that in my boy, and it felt good.

See more at Annie's blog at regardingannie.com