Beware the quiet ones

Yesterday, I picked up my girls from school, and my little one had a sad look upon her cute little face.  She informed me right away that she did not get chosen for student council, and then she broke into tears.  My heart went out to her, because she went after this position (something I never did), with vigor and hope.  I actually thought she had a shot at it, but as with anything, it was a gamble.

As a mom, our job is to comfort. 

As we were walking home from school, I did the only thing I thought would bring her immediate comfort, I carried her piggy-back home. 

As a mom, my job is to be fair.

I instantly noticed my older daughter's face fall as she witnessed this.  I know that look well, I get it from either one, or the other often enough.  I hesitated asking what was "wrong" with her, because I already knew the answer.

As a mom my job is to think quick.

I didn't ask.  I just rode my little one home on my back and had her talk about the elections, the speeches and how she'd handled her defeat.

When we got home, I dropped my little one off my back, and the floodgates started.  I sat on the couch with her in my lap, while my older daughter quietly slipped upstairs.  After about 10 minutes of talking my little red head from jumping off the cliff, I felt it timely to go upstairs and Aspen what was up.

When I went into her room, I saw her sitting on her bed, twirling a string through her fingers, with yes...a sad look upon her face.  I asked her why she was up here and why so sad. 

She told me that two years ago, when she ran for student council, and didn't get it, she was not treated in the same way as I cared for Avery.  I told her that her reaction was not as.....ummm....."out there" as Avery's was.  I told her I didn't remember her crying.  And she said something to me that hit me between the eyes....
She said,  "I did cry.  I went upstairs and cried in my room."   I wanted to die!

As a mom you have to realize that sometimes you totally miss the mark!

As I sat there, holding my sweet little Aspen it occurred to me, that while I comfort Avery, who puts it out there;  I have been ignoring Aspen, who suffers quietly.

As a mom you have to fix it.

For many years, I watched Avery, who wears her emotions  on her sleeve (like her mother), and I worried about her mental well being.  She is delicate and fragile.  I fear that she will have my anxieties and I have spent endless hours worrying about how to deal with her tantrums, hoping to direct her to a better path than I led. 

In the meantime, my sweet little Aspen, who seems so self confident and self assured, has watched and turned her pain inward,  suffering in silence, not letting me in as much as I thought, to her pain.

And the same is true in life.  When you take someone at face value, you think you are taking them in truth.  But the fact is, we are all like onions ('scuse the cliche term), with so many layers.  None of us are as we seem.  There are always many facets to who we are.

I held Aspen yesterday and apologized for not seeing and acknowledging her pain 2 years ago.  I explained to her that we as parents respond to what we "see" and as she went into her room to cry silently, I didn't see how to comfort her.  I explained the difference in reaction between her and her sister, and why we respond differently based on their issues.  And I told her I would be watching her more closely from now on.  She smiled slightly at my remark.  I think she got it.

I am reminded to look beneath the surface of people.  I can't take the time to peel back every layer.  But if you look into someones eyes when you are talking to them, the truth is there.  It's a quiet science that is true; and one that I have been working on for years.  I love to watch peoples reactions when they talk about something they love.  Sometimes it oozes from their skin.  And when someone is in pain, you can see them almost pull back as if they have been burned by fire.  It's all there in front of you if you watch closely enough.  And when it is your children; you must watch closely enough!

As a mom, you learn from your children.

Yesterday when I left Aspen I told her, "You have to realize that parents are not perfect; but we can be trained!"