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Lily has started feeling sick again on the way to school. It is a bit different this time as she does not feel sick on the ride, but as we are getting closer to school, having already gone through Bridgetown. When I ask her if she likes school and her classmates and her teachers and the activities, she says she loves them. That is is supremely happy and her teacher, the gorgeous Mrs. Young, has confirmed that. Lily is well-liked, friendly, kind, attentive, all of the qualities that make up a good student and a good classmate and friend. I have been more gentle with her this time, as I know she is tender-hearted and that if something is bothering her enough to make her sick, she is letting it weigh on her little heart without having the words to express it.
This morning at the school drop off, I discovered our problem. There is a young woman at school each morning who has been assigned to tend to the smaller children before the bell rings. She looks after them, draws pictures with them, holds their hands and wipes their tears. Her name is Miss Lucas and Lily loves and adores her. This woman has made drop off not only easy, but pleasant. Lily gets kisses and hugs from Mommy, Papa, and Virginie and then jumps into the waiting arms of a hip, young Bajan lady who lets Lily listen to her iPod and teaches her schoolyard songs and games. Miss Lucas is loved by many and a group of older girls, read 6 year olds, has returned to her side each morning.
At first I thought that Lily felt edged out, but the problem is more subtle. This group of six year old girls has been fawning over Lily, petting her, trying to carry her, playing with her hair, in the morning and again at recess. They have taken out the braids I have put in in the morning and brushed her hair to craziness and given her little trinkets of love and friendship and told her that they are her best friends. She does not even know their names.
Lily's safe place with Miss Lucas is now threatened. At four and a 1/2 years old, she does not understand this kind of relationship. Some of the girls are so in her face that she loses all of her personal space. They are nearly cheek to cheek or mouth to cheek. They touch her face, pet her like a doll, try to manipulate her position so they can be closer to her or hold her. She does not have the courage to tell them to back off, nor does she have the language to express her concern about their adoration. When she came running to me this morning complaining again of an upset stomach, she looked like a deer in headlights, completely terrified. I will confess that I was not quite sure what the problem until I saw one of the girls trailing behind Lily, trying to grab her legs to lift her and carry her though she was already in motion! When Lily sat down at a bench to draw, this little girl sat almost on top of her and tried to help her draw as though she were a baby. I interceded and told her to give Lily some air, but the crazy mommy was about to come out. Before I said something I knew I shouldn't, I went straight to Mrs. Young and gave her my impressions. I thought it safer for all involved that I say no more to the little girl. She is, after all, a little girl too, but my concern right now is for my child. My child who is terrified and confused and freaked and I did not want to speak too harshly or aggressively during what is obviously a strange situation for all involved.
I was hoping I had a little more time to talk about the complexity of female relationships. We do not talk about beauty or call people special because of how they look. Lily, like most children her age, does not know that some people get more attention than others based on societal ideas about looks, beauty, charisma, charm, all that stuff. All she knows is that it feels yuck and that she just wants to play with her friends. Well I want her to play with her friends and be a regular little girl full of charm and charisma and beauty, without having to even think about it.
To be continued...
(c) Copyright 2011. City Mom in the Jungle.
It's not rocket science, you know? If you want to keep your relationship alive, you have to commit to it, tend to it, keep your life in balance. It has been pretty darn tough doing that as we've had to navigate life with two small children, Didier's demanding job, drop offs and pick ups and after school activities, homework, my need to write or do anything for myself, really, sleep. Petty fighting and snippy comments, OK mostly from my end, had taken their toll on us and I must admit, I was starting not to recognize us. The "us" that was "we" before "them." Now I love our lives together and feel truly blessed to have this family, but I also loved being with Didier when all his focus, his love, his energy, his effort was directed towards me. I am seeking balance.
When you finally meet someone who tickles your fancy, someone with whom you wouldn't mind spending more than a day or two, someone with whom you not only could consider spending your life, but could not imagine not spending your life, all kinds of magic begins and there is light and sparkle. I remember it so well and catch glimpses of it when I peer at Didier as he sleeps or when he is looking at the girls as they explain something very, very important to him yet again. But I am certainly not the first, nor will I be the last to say that children, demanding work, lack of intellectually challenging work, can dampen that burning, yearning fire pretty quickly. It is not to say that we do not love each other as we surely do and say so often, well more often than we once did, but the expression of that love is often different.
Where we were once able to just pick up and get away, take the day off to roam the city, stay in bed, go to a cafe, there are now new demands. Getting to school on time, having reviewed vocabulary words, read the assigned books, packed lunches, packed backpacks, planned for after-school activities, wiped tears, calmed fears, taken one, two, three trips to the bathroom before getting in the car and then having to go once strapped in, washed dishes (by hand as we have no dishwasher), taken care of household chores and details certainly changes the morning routine. There are fewer opportunities to stare into each others' eyes, hold hands, have a conversation about ideas and thoughts and dreams rather than the minutiae of family life.
While children are often adorably narcissistic, they do actually get a little twinkle in their eyes when they see their parents in love too. They feel safe, secure, protected because their parents are a force guiding the family team. My girls were watching morning battles over seriously insignificant details of our day and wondering what Mommy was yelling about in the car. Again. And I really wasn't yelling about anything other than the fact that I was tired, dissatisfied, overworked, overwhelmed, and lonely and wanted validation for those feelings.
And then it happened. One Monday morning after dropping both Lily and Virginie at their respective schools, we found ourselves alone in the car. Without needing to go to the grocery store, pay any bills, open the gate for the gardeners, cleaning ladies, or plumber. A free morning to be together. Alone. As a couple. We walked on the beach at Paynes Bay, near the fish market and marveled at all the fish heads on the ground and manchineel apples dropped from the trees. The turquoise of the water is just luscious at that spot and we took it in, holding hands and smiling. We took a drive to Brandon Beach off Spring Garden Highway and joined the groups of old Bajan men soaking in the water chatting, Rastas bathing, young mothers splashing their babies at the shore. We walked and laughed and watched young couples playing hookie from school in the throes of early love. We remembered.
On the drive home, I put my hand over his and without uttering a word we reconnected. Warts and all, this IS the man with whom I want to spend my life, raise my children, discover the world. I just needed to see him again, to look at him, and be with him. I hope we can do this at least two or three times a month. I know it doesn't seem like much, but it is a real start. Virginie attends nursery school for just half a day right now to get back home and have her nap, so we will have three hours at best. But that three hours, that day, was pure magic. And it brought us back to love. Of course, that night there was chaos and screaming and vocabulary words and giggles and story time and dinner, dishes, and bedtime. But there were also smiles. There was peace. And there was balance.
(c) Copyright 2011. City Mom in the Jungle.
