East of Eden

It was a rough week at work, a really rough week. Maybe all the planets were out of synch, but so many clients were out of sorts I was starting to get paranoid. It was the kind of week that would make me cry.

If I were younger.

But the fortunate thing about getting older is I remember all the other crappy weeks I got through, and I can say, yeah, next week they’ll all be fine.
It’s kind of a perverse logic, I suppose, but I really rely on my horrible experiences to help me put the current ones in perspective.

Chief among them is my meeting with the Queen of Mean, Leona Helmsley. Having heard all about her, of course, I was waiting through the whole meeting for the lash to crack. She was perfectly polite through the main presentation, and then, just as we were beginning to breathe easy, she looked me straight in the eye and said “I hate your dress.”
Should I apologize for it? She would distain that. And me.
Should I agree? I would be marked a sycophant and lose all power of persuasion.
Should I snap back? Might as well kiss the account goodbye right there.
So I looked back with a big smile and said, “Let’s go shopping!”
She didn’t reply right away, but I have to tell you that four times over the course of the evening she complimented that stupid dress.

Nobody has remotely scared me since.

So naturally, as a mom, I wonder what experiences the smalls are going to have to toughen them up for the world ahead. It isn’t something we parents think about, in our stacks and stacks of anger-management, situation-deflecting guidebooks. I must’ve bought a dozen resources on how to turn my children’s upsets into ‘positive’ moments. And I’ve thrown them all away. Because as much as I’d like to make their childhood an Eden where all is sunny and bright and the fruit is really, really good, the truth is, sooner or later we all get kicked out of the garden.

So when my children are upset, I empathize, but I’ve stopped trying to make it go away.

My son was crying about problems at school, and I said, “Hon, you’re just going to have to find the strength to get through this.” He yelled, “Mom, that’s not very comforting.” And I said, “What comfort would you have me give you? You’re the one going through this, you have to decide what you want to happen.” He stopped crying, calmed down, and said. “Okay.” And I think (I hope) he made a mature decision that night.

Does that sound harsh? It would if you think of your child as a weak little chick you have to protect. (And of course, if they’re under 5, you’re right – they are a weak little chick and you should protect them.) But as they get into the school system and spend their days with people you don’t know in situations you can’t control, they need to know they are strong enough to get through it.
And someday when my kids meet the new Queens of Mean – and believe me, I’m sure some over-indulgent jerk is incubating them right now – they’ll know how to handle them – with confidence and self-possession. Two things Eden didn’t know much about.