Life Lessons

I hate life lessons.  Yeah, we all need to learn them.  Yeah, they are the best teaching tool for future experiences.  However, they usually come with a price.  A price of hurt feelings and tears shed.  We never come away the same after a particular lesson.  Tonight was one of those instructional moments for my Raychel.  Actually, I think I need to learn something too…just not sure what.

James has a standing “guys night” with his buddies from work.  They all get together and play “nerd games” for hours on end.  I am always supportive of him going because that means I never have to play those games (as if I would even be a remotely challenging or desired opponent).  This gives time for the girls and me to have a little fun on our own.  Tonight’s request: The Play Place.  UGH.  I hate “The Play Place”.  It’s dirty.  It’s LOUD.  The food is…I want to say nasty, but I’m right there with the best of them shoving salty fries in my face.  The fountain Diet Coke is the worst.  It’s just a gross germ field (did I already mention that?).  BUT, I like my girls to be happy.  If a happy Friday night involves some chicken McNuggets, I’ll splurge for that.  Our friend, Nate, meets us there and we’re early before the dinner rush.  I plop on a too-small-for-my-butt bench and commence reading my book trying to block out all the echo-y, shrill screams of happy children.

I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about my Raychel’s personality.  She’s a special spirit.  She’s older than her years.  Her feelings are deep and tender.  She’s tough…not a cry baby.  She’s small.  She’s mighty.  I remember one time I took her to the doctor to get some booster shot.  She may have been around two or three years old.  Those boosters are typically large doses, and they sting.  The nurses always hated giving Raychel shots because she had no fat anywhere to help lessen the blow of the electrifying needle.  During this particular administration, Raychel sat there on the paper covered bed completely stoic.  She watched the syringe enter her “bicep”, the medicine slowly exit the needle, and seep in her bony arm.  Not one flinch.  Not one tear.  I always knew she was a tough, but that sent her to “John Wayne” tough status.  As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m trying to think of any other time she was emotional without cause.  I honestly can’t.  (Now, Anna and Leah are a whole different story.  We solve emotional crises daily.  Usually dealing with one or two before 8 AM)

After what felt like 3 hours at The Play Place, Raychel ran up to me BAWLING.  She buried her head in my chest and just shook.  Snot and tears were flowing freely.  I’m instantly alarmed and looking for blood.  “What?!  What happened?!  Are you hurt?!”  I finally am able to decipher the broken message she’s trying to tell me.  Two boys were mean to her.  Instantly, I feel the surge of blood enter my face.  Pupils dilate.  Nostrils flare.  “TAKE ME TO THEM”, I bark.  Of course, these little turds hide themselves in the cave of a purple tube.  Probably laughing at my obvious anger.  I keep telling myself, “Be sure to keep your pointer finger out of their faces, Ali.  You do not want to go to jail.  Don’t cuss.”  It was pretty obvious they weren’t going to be emerging from their hole.  I was going to have to take matters into my own hands and interrogate every table myself.  “Do you have a boy in an orange shirt?”  Surprisingly, no one would own up to it.  Finally, they are located.  His parents look at me like I’m from Mars.  “Well, he’s not being nice.  He made my daughter cry, and I don’t appreciate that.”  More blank stares.  They totally didn’t care their son was making girls cry and saying “rude words”.  They DEFENDED him by placing blame on Raychel.  

EX-A-CUSE ME (head swerve).  I just dropped it and left while they were in mid-stupid-sentence.  Raychel is still crying, mind you.  And her cry is so little and sweet.  It’s not an obnoxious bellow.

I start pressing Raychel in the car about what really happened.  Did he touch you?  Did he get physical with you?  I’m not really understanding why you’re so upset.  This is not like you.  I will get more serious with his parents if I need to.  All I could gather is he called her a “stupid piece of crap” and “laughed in her face” and she wanted to “punch him” (go girl!).  Then came the life lesson statement, “I guess my feelings are crushed.  My heart hurts.  I’ve never been called a piece of crap, and I don’t like it.”  I’m driving and the deep thought racing through my head is, “I hate people”.  That little brat “crushed” my girl.  Hurt her like she’s never been hurt.  Took away her innocent, naive conception that everyone loves her.  She now knows people are basically jerks.  Life lessons.  UGH.

I ask everyone what we can learn from this experience.  We can’t punch people no matter what (We kick them in the crotch…LOL Just kidding!!  Didn’t say that!).  Go to an adult if the situation is getting out of control.  We still need to love them.  Nate chimes in, “Then come get me, and I’ll take care of it.”  HAHA!  Thanks, Nate.  Loyal friends are priceless. 

Now, what can I learn?  My daughters are growing faster than I want.  They’re being exposed to this evil world, and my blanket of protection is getting smaller as they branch out.  I want them to be tough, but I also want them to be tender.  Did I handle this like a Christ-like woman?  Hmmm…quick to anger and instantly confrontational.  Safe to say, it looks like I failed.  I hope, at least, I was able to mend Raychel’s hurt heart.  I can see my “magical mother powers” weakening the older she gets.  Can’t solve problems the way I used to.  Feelings and emotions run a lot deeper than they did when she was two years old.

I just hope that through these difficult life lessons, Raychel will understand how infinitely she is loved and immeasurable her value.  She is a daughter of God.  It is my responsibility to make sure that is etched in her heart…not the mean words of little creeps.  I learned I need to be more perseverant in that teaching…for all my girls.  I want hurtful words and difficult experiences to roll off of them because they possess something better.  More concrete.  More real.  That is my lesson.