Super Mom

My husband tells a story about the first time he realized his parents weren’t infallible. He remembers a day his mother was unable to heal an upset stomach.  All she could offer was some chicken soup and the seven-year-old boy was shocked. How was it possible that his mother could not fix his tummy if he she could leap tall buildings in a single bound?

It’s an old tale, I suppose:  “Little kid, little problems.  Big kid, big problems.”  But what’s worse?  Not being able to fix the little problems when your kid thinks you’re invincible, breaking both your hearts or not being able to fix the big problems – expected by the grown-up child perhaps, but still heart-breaking for the parents? 

The first time it happened was when Evan, my 3 year-old, broke his favorite DVD. I was sewing his Halloween costume while he pulled out Thomas and the Magic Railroad from the DVD drawer.

“Mommy, I want to watch this one” he said.

I looked up to see him pulling the DVD from its case when I heard the snap and the tiny-voiced “oh no.”  I felt the moment of dread which I imagine strikes most parents as they sense the inevitability of a meltdown. In our house the tantrums tend to start slowly and build to a crescendo often landing my son red-faced and horizontal on the living room floor. 

“Fix it, Mommy…please…” he said. 

“I can’t sweetie. It’s not fixable,” I replied.  

Oh crap.  Had I just done it?  The image of a dark-haired seven year old with a tummy-ache drifted to mind. 

“Maybe Daddy can fix it,” he said hopefully. 

Logical - after all Daddy had fixed his remote control dune buggy with a screw driver and the flip-flopping crocodile in his favorite pop-up book with sticky tape. Why wouldn’t he be able to work his magic on a Thomas DVD?

“Not this time, honey, I’m sorry.” 

I was waiting for it…breath held…ears drums primed.  But instead, Evan looked at me and said simply and quietly, “why not?”

 

His eyes filled with tears and his mouth turned down as his lips started to quiver.  At that moment, he might as well have been holding the two halves of his own heart in his hands.

If I was really the super hero he imagined me to be I should be able to zap that disc back together with my super-spider web wrists: I should be able to wave the magic wand that any good magic fairy would have on hand for such an occasion; or melded that plastic back together with my blazing fire bolt eyes - but all I had was a needle and thread and a feeling of helplessness.

“We can put it back together with sticky tape, Evan, but it won’t play again.”

To my surprise, his face brightened and I breathed a momentary sigh of relief as together we went looking for the tape.  We put the DVD back together again and that seemed to work for the moment.  Maybe I was safe – at least for now. He knew it wouldn’t work again but the important thing seemed to be that he had been heard and that the DVD was once again in one piece. 

The taped-up DVD was put back in its case and placed on a shelf in Evan’s room to assure him that it was not tossed aside and to remind me that I may not have a magic wand but I will always be there with bowl of soup or a roll of sticky tape.

(Published in MLTS "Baby Bloomer" - October 2011)