She’s only 4 1/2. She’s blond with bright hazel eyes and abounding energy. She seeks approval; especially mine. She is affectionate and dramatic, yet reserved and observant. She’s quiet until she plays or gets mad. She runs like the wind and it’s the most feminine thing you’ve ever seen. She’s a girl.
She’s girly. She loves glitter and sparkle and glow. She is a Hannah Montana fan and loves her doll house. She likes shoes that light up or have sequins. Pink is her favorite color. Blue is too, but I think she only says that because it’s mine. She really likes pink the best.
Last night I tucked the kids in like I always do. Jeremy always wants me to sleep with him and, if Rich is home from work, I will lie down next to him and cuddle for a few minutes. He always cries when I leave and I always want to stay. But I can’t. I have to go tuck in his sister next. I read her a book, said her prayers, recited her Bible verses, smoothed her pretty hair, kissed her, hugged her, made sure her closet door was closed “all the way”, and told her how much I love her and to sleep well. Jaxon was already asleep in his crib.
Monday nights are “24” nights here. Rich and I love that show. We’ve been fans from the beginning. I sat down to watch it with him and just started to feel my body relax when I heard it.
“Pause, hit pause, please”, I said in a loud whisper.
“What?”, was his reply as he made the screen freeze. (Thank you God for DVR)
We listened hard cocking our heads towards the hallway.
“Brianna is crying.” I raced to her room.
She was curled up in a ball facing her wall and I could see her little body quiver with each sob. She was bawling. After many questions and lots of cuddling I found out why she was crying. Here is the shorter version:
“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow, Mommy.”
“Brianna you have to go. You love school. What happened?”
“I just miss you and I want you and I want to be with you.”
“I miss you and love you too, but, honey, school is important. Why don’t you want to go all of a sudden?”
“They call me names, Mom.”
“Who calls you names, Bree?”
“Gabriella does.” (her best friend)
“What kind of names?”
“Silly names and it hurts my feelings and she wants to play with Adam and not me.”
We had a similar issue a few months ago. Gabby suddenly didn’t want to play with Brianna. It hurt Bree a lot, but it wasn’t bad enough that she didn’t want to return to school. I simply told Brianna that Gabby was going to miss out on a lot of friendship and to play with the other nicer girls in her class. It worked… that time anyway. Brianna had been sick with bronchitis and so I kept her out of school for almost 2 weeks. We all just figured Gabby was upset Brianna had been gone so long and was displaying her hurt by emotionally detaching from Bree. They were back to being best friends 2 weeks later. They’re 4 years old afterall.
Well, Brianna missed a whole week of school again recently due to a very bad cold that lasted longer than usual. I wondered if Gabby was reacting to her absence again even though it was a couple of weeks ago.
But as Brianna cried and I watched her innocent eyes fill with tears I broke inside. Her broken heart shattered mine. I started to cry, but did my best to suck it up so she wouldn’t know. I just hugged her close to my heart as my tears fell into her hair. The room was dark and I don’t think she noticed. I gave her all my promises and love words and explained how special she is to me and to her Daddy and to God who made her so perfect for us and how even her tiny fingernails were so special to us all. I told her how much her brothers love her and how her teachers would miss her so much if she didn’t go back to school. I did my best to make her feel like the Princess she rightfully is and hope I put a nugget of strength into her heart that will help her build the confidence I want her to have so that she won’t be broken ever again.
So that I won’t have to watch her heart be broken ever again. So that I won’t hug her as my burning tears drip into her hair. So that her smile never fades. So that the world can’t hurt her anymore. So that she’ll always remain tender and pure in her heart.
But another day will come. And it won’t be long. And I won’t be ready.
I’m not ready for her broken heart.
I’m not. I doubt I ever will be.