Undoing

One of my clients hugged me this morning. It was nice.

***

I took this afternoon off to take THEGIRL to her checkup. Seems she'd not seen the doc since she was 18 months old--wow.

Everything checked out just fine, though she was lacking an immunization. I braced myself for the possible scene we were facing when shot time came.

I sat her on the table, embraced her, and told her to look at me. No dice. She insisted on watching the needle go into her leg.

She looked at me, shaking her head "no no no" as the needle went in, clearly meaning to tell me that this strange lady was NOT allowed to do that.

But she did not cry. As soon as the bandage was on she forgot the whole thing.

***

When I first went to the Krav school last year, I wanted my son to do it too. I mean, I wanted him to WANT to. And he didn't at first. He'd seen martial arts in person here and there, had visited a Kung Fu school or two with me. And he was always very clear: "I never want to do that." Something about strange circumstances, doing new things, all that.

But I had a nefarious plan: I took him with me. Yeah, I took him with me many times, just so he'd get comfortable there. He's spent many a Krav class watching movies or playing with toys there. He got comfortable all right. Maybe too comfortable, as he treats the whole place like it's his second home.

***

Flashback to a week ago, as THEBOY and THEGIRL were in the instructor's office, watching a video while I trained. I can see in there from the mat just a bit, as there's a big window.

I heard a loud BANG and glanced over. Staring back from the window was a wide-eyed THEBOY, pointing wordlessly at his sister.

I had to laugh.

***

So it finally happened. My school started a kids' class. For six months or more he's been just aching to do it. I take him out into the garage and show him strikes on the bag. We do ground stuff in the living room. He has asked over and over to take a class, and now he's got his chance.

He showed up tonight as student #1. In fact, he's the only student in the program at this point.

I chatted with a new (grownup) student while THEGIRL watched a video in the office. MOBB showed up, and we hung out while THEBOY did his thing.

Ya'll, he looked GOOD. I'm SO glad I'd worked with him on some of the most basic stuff, like kicks, striking technique, stance, etc. You should have seen his combinations popping on the pads out there tonight. He had his gloves on, and he was all business.

I was really doggone proud.

***

When he was done we hit the Sonic for some fast food as sort of a celebration. When he sat down to eat we gave him a card that reads, "You're a star!" on the outside. It was a congratulatory note for a great first class.

***

The class, by the way, is true MMA. It's not straight-up Krav, as, well, that requires licensing and stuff. There is a kids' Krav program, but it's something not all schools offer for whatever reason. So this program combines techniques from our instructor's wide-ranging background. It'll resemble kickboxing more than anything.

***

So THEBOY shoved THEGIRL tonight, and she fell hard on the tile by the front door. She was crying, and I rushed over, worried that she'd lost a tooth or cracked her head or something.

I asked THEBOY what he'd done, and he made a "shove" gesture with his hands several times before he could bring himself to say the words. I was fairly incensed as I told him he was never to do that, and that she could have really been hurt there on the hard tile. He retreated to his room. THEGIRL recovered quickly, and MOBB explained that he's been shoving or tripping her some lately. I called him out of his room, where he was crying, to explain to him, calmly, just how she could get hurt from a shove.

***

I was angry, yes. I didn't yell, scream, or threaten anything (like a spanking or the removal of other priviledges). I simply made it very clear that he'd messed up.

***

A few minutes later I was cleaning in the kitchen, and he walked to the pantry and put his congratulatory note in the trash.

"Why are you doing that?" I asked him, stunned.

"Because of what I did to [THEGIRL]," he replied, crying again.

I grabbed the card, put him on the kitchen counter and embraced him there, feeling like a monster.

***

I calmed him down, but felt pretty rotten about the whole thing. I felt strongly about how he'd treated his sister, and I made that clear. I don't think my reaction was inappropriate, but his subsequent behavior was painful to watch.

***

As I tucked him in later, I asked him how his day was. "Bad," he said.

Bad?

"Because of what I did to sister."

I explained that he's a GOOD boy, and that he just messed up. Everyone does it.

"Bad. It was a bad day, and it always will be."

So I went into amateur therapist mode. I grabbed his notepad and some markers and told him to draw the bad feelings for me, however he wanted.

In bold green strokes he drew fire, an explosion, a cut, and some other nasty stuff. Then he wrote the word "bad" at the top.

I told him to wad it up, and he did so, noisily. Then I had him get up out of bed and go across the house to throw it away in the very trash can where he'd tried to throw away the card earlier.

***

When we got back to his bed, he asked if he could draw good feelings. He drew a sword, a crown, drums, a UFO, and some "alien slime." Then he wrote "Good" across the top.

I asked him if good defeated bad, and the day was going to be good after all. (Yes, I was leading him). He said yes.

***

The drawing is taped up by our TV now.

***

Part of me felt like I'd done some successful therapy on the kid, and part of me felt like I was desperately trying to undo some damage to soothe my own conscience.

Parenting is a struggle unlike any other. The depth and breadth of emotions are stunning, and altogether unknown to the childless I'd venture to say. I don't mean to dismiss or belittle the emotions experienced by those who are not parents, but really, parenting can rip your heart in two with sadness, or overwhelm you to the point of losing your cool with glee. It's different territory altogether when your interactions with this young being are crucial to how they develop, and you'll second-guess yourself constantly. You will speak to your child in ways (both good and bad) that you don't want anyone else in the world to hear, and then you will speak to them exactly the same way when people are around specifically so the others WILL hear.

They are full of love, and startlingly resilient. And once in a while someone will tell you that yours is "a great kid," and you realize they're right, and allow yourself to consider that perhaps you deserve some credit for that.