My high school nickname was the Ice Queen.
They weren't wrong.
I have a crying meltdown about twice a year, it is like a summer storm, in and out, where all the stress and sadness and madness and pressure comes out.
And then it is gone.
The slate is wiped clean.
I'm still pretty there.Powering through crisis is my jam (well, if global pandemic has a jam). I can do this each day. It's hard. It's impossible. I viscerally hate even moment of it. But I can do it.
Because what's the choice.
Ya'll, the barometric pressure is rising.
And it is hitting us right in the tiny guy's feels.
James' love language is.... love. He loves physical touch. He crushes giving and receiving words of affirmation. He exudes joy. His first sentence was "I so joyful, Mama".
His armor is cracking.
He's letting it out in the most heart wrenching ways.
As you can expect a tiny four year old preschooler with a gentle heart to do.
Like not straying two feet from my side throughout the entire school and work day...
Waking at four in the morning and crawling in our bed...
Joining in the daily remote control control screaming matches...
Singing, on my bed, two feet away, for the whole hour of a work webinar...
If I'm cooking, he's cooking.
If I'm hiking, he's holding my hand.
If I'm sitting on the couch, he's in my lap.
Then came the school's daily social-emotional prompts...which I ask him and write what he says verbatim.
What makes your friends so great? -- "I can't see my friends so I don't remember."
What does a hug feel like? -- "Hugs feel like love and nothing else."
What's a memory that makes you happy? -- "Nothing makes me happy anymore because of no school and no friends."
How do you show people you care? -- "I really don't know. I don't want my family to die."
What makes you feel brave? -- "I don't know. Mommy makes me feel brave because you always protect me."
The crusher today, while I was trying to listen through online church today, he was clearly struggling.
I, pulled him up in my lap for a giant hug. He melted into me and I asked him what was wrong, and he said "I'm having a bad time and I need you to help my heart feel better."
You guys, he's four. Of course he isn't equipped to deal with this.
We are ten times his age, and don't have the words or coping skills or solutions.
He's four.
And tender.
With a huge, raw and gentle heart.
When the haze lifts for the rest of the world, it'll be summer storm season over here.
Until then, there's a lot of four year old hearts that need help feeling better.
And probably some grown up ones too.
