Four and counting.....

Last night was a mom-chauffeur night from hell.  Jason had to work until like 10 last night (he ended up working until midnight) and I had two kids in two different areas and picking up another kid too...and there was some overlapping...and some things sprung up at the last minute so I had no time to find other people to help out....So someone dropped J and other boy off at baseball practice (half an hour away). I took I to his talent show.  He got to perform, but we left before the final bow and he was SO UPSET.  He cried the half hour to the baseball fields. He held it together when brother and friend got into the car.

Here's the thing...this is my sensitive child, he's also my overweight child.  When we told them about the surgery, he actually asked if he could have it too.  Breaks your heart a little doesn't it.  He will grow into his weight (the kid is 9, over 5 feet, and wears a 9 men's shoe -- he's gonna shoot up pretty quickly here).  He's also about to start swim team and now that summer is here, he's been spending more and more time outside.  I'm not too worried about his weight at this point. He'll always be a big guy, he's tall, he's thickly built, his shoulder span is almost that of mine.  It's hard on him because his brother, is rail thin (and also tall, at 12 he's my height, and I'm not a short woman). We also have a rule at our house (and the kids think they're living in fascist state because of it) no sugar during the weeks, no soda, no candy, no desserts.  These are special treats and only allowed on the weekends, or holidays.

But there he was sobbing in the back seat as we were on our way to the baseball practice to pick up other son and other boy and it was breaking my heart because I knew it was all my fault (well really Jason's fault, but he was busy being a provider to his family so that we could have the car, the house, the baseball practice and the costumes for the talent show---so really if he wasn't doing what he was doing there would be no picking up to do).

My first thought was to tell I -- "hey honey, how about Dairy Queen, would that make you feel better?"
I had to bite my freakin' tongue.  Flash back to me as a kid, crying about something and eating some ice cream with the tears streaming down my face and stuffing the sobs with creamy goodness and  my mother telling me I was fine and whatever I was upset about wasn't worth being upset about.

So, when we got to the fields, we waited for J and friend to be finished and I got into the back seat with I and hugged him, and I just let him cry.  It was his right to be upset.  He didn't need to stuff his emotions. He could just have them.  And I had to be okay with that.

Food can be healing, but when it's used to stuff our emotions, it's dangerous.
Sometimes we learn these lessons by trying to provide something different for our children (because a lot of times we love them more then we love ourselves).