Well, the novelty of Mommy's sadness has worn off for Babe but I wanted to tell you all briefly about my sweet little girl who came to my aid when she saw her mommy hurting.
I feel terrible for being so depressed in front of her. It's inappropriate and not the kind of mother I want to be, but I guess we all have moments of weakness.
Babe can be a handful for sure. She has a lot of naughty moments and can throw a terrible fit with the best of the two-year-olds. She truly is the little girl with the little curl in the middle of her forehead.
But I have heard on more than one occasion from various caregivers that for her young age she shows remarkable compassion for her peers. Still I have been surprised and touched by her apparent concern for my well being over the past couple weeks. Especially since toddlers aren't known to be especially invested in anyone's happiness but their own.
In the days following my recent break up I could hardly muster the energy to get dressed or leave my bed. Babe and I were alone for the first couple days until my parents arrived (for a coincidentally pre-planned visit) and despite my best efforts to carry on for her, I spent most of that time half-heartedly playing with toys beside her with tears running down my cheeks.
One afternoon, as we were playing on the floor and I was miserably failing at hiding how miserable I was, Babe and I had one of the strongest bonding moments we've had since she stole my life-long teddy bear out of my arms while we slept.
I was sitting on the floor playing with her and doing my best to use my cheerful voice through heaving sobs - as if a normal tone could somehow trick my daughter into not noticing that something was off with Mommy. When all of a sudden she stopped playing and asked me if I was sad. I told her that I was and it was no big deal and gave her a brief explanation at which point, still crying, I expected her to resume our game as if satisfied with knowing 'yup, she's sad.'
But she was intently focused on me, not the toys. Then she told me she would read me a story to make me not be sad anymore.
She ran into her room and came out with her chubby baby arms filled with a sloppy pile of books - dropping them like a trail of breadcrumbs down the hallway as she came to me.
She sat down beside me, chose a book and then proceeded to pretend to read it to me with the pictures facing me like her pre-school teachers would do for the class.
I faked a smile and thanked her but I couldn't stop the crying.
Not discouraged she announced that she would get me some toys and ran back into her bedroom and retrieved some of her most prized possessions.
Again I thanked her and told her that made me happy - still crying.
But I was clearly not OK and instead of becoming frustrated at her failure to make me happy or distracted by the books and toys on the floor, my darling little girl climbed up into the rocking chair that I have comforted her in since the day she was born, turned to me, patted the space beside her little body and said' "It's OK Mommy. Come sit with me and we'll talk about it."
It was the first moment where my heart began to heal a little bit and it was because of a two-year-old. I was so touched by her innocent desire to not see Mommy be sad and her perseverance when her first attempts just weren't good enough to help.
At the same time I felt so terrible for putting her in a place where she had to worry about taking care of her mommy's emotional state.
A few days later it was a friend who suggested I write it down to keep for her for later.
I try not to be one of those my-baby-is-a-genius, braggy parents, but in that moment my two-year-old's capacity for compassion completely overwhelmed me.
I'm so lucky.
And I'm so glad that I have taken the time to recognize her little tragedies, no matter how ridiculous or trivial they seem to adults. Maybe it's just who she is, or maybe trying to understand her feelings even in her fits of toddler-craziness is helping her become a more empathetic child.
