A couple of weeks ago my daughter found a picture of herself from her Birth Day. She started to ask a bunch of questions, but mostly she was concerned with the blood on her legs.

“Is that the blood from when they cut your stomach open to get me out?”
“They didn’t cut my stomach to get you out.”
“Then how did I come out?”

(Fun Conversations With Kids!)  

“You came out of my vagina.”
“ARE YOU KIDDING?” She said, in a tone that suggested she was TOTALLY BLOWN AWAY.
“No, I’m not kidding.”
“But how did I fit?”

I did my best to explain. I think I used words like “stretch” and also “cut a little with scissors.”
She actually asked me if the doctors had a “pachina sewing kit to fix my pachina up.”
HA HA HA.

She’s brought it up a few times since we talked about. Like, we’ll be out shopping and out of the blue she’ll say something like “Mommy, did the doctor have to cut your pachina a little to get me out of your tummy?” These random questions she asks in public prompted my husband to ask  “why did you tell her that?” You know, I could have made up some cute little stories about how babies magically float out of your stomach in a Bubble of God Love or something. But that’s not how I roll. I’ve always been honest with my kids when it comes to How Our Bodies Work.

Yesterday I was watching 16 & Pregnant while the kids were outside with their daddy. G walked in to grab a drink just as the girl was giving birth. She stopped. Stared at the TV.
“She’s pushing her baby out of her Pachinee, Mommy!” She shrieked. “Is that what it was like when you pushed me out of your pachinee?”

“Yep. That’s how you came out. Just like that.” I replied.

She stood there to watch and it was like suddenly, IT ALL MADE SENSE– her very own “A-ha! Moment.” She grabbed her drink, walked out of the room without saying a word. Twenty minutes later, she walked back in and handed me a picture and said “This is from the day you had me.”

She hasn’t asked another question since. 

Thank you. MTV

She had been waiting for this all day long. “When daddy comes home, we’re going to make our confetti craft, right mom? “How much longer til daddy gets home because I am so excited to make my confetti craft!” All day long, she talked about it.
Daddy came home. “Can we do our craft now?”
“After dinner, mama.” He answered.
Dinner was over and she immediately ran to her room to get the toilet paper rolls she had been saving. I gathered the supplies we’d need and we both set them up on the table.
“I’m so excited!” She would say. “Me too!” I’d say.

We began to prep, carefully checking the supply list. Within a minute I realized we’d forgotten to buy a tool we didn’t have on hand– a crafting needle. My husband, ever the genius, was all “never fear! I can make one! Out of a nail.” Myself, ever the doubter, scoffed at him. “A crafting needle out of a NAIL? How?” “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll go make one.”
After 18 years of being married to him, one would think I’d stop doubting him. He has a solution for every problem, big and small. (Unless we’re talking about “money problems.” But every other problem, he will fix it. He has tools and he’s not afraid to use them!)
G followed him into the garage, while I sat at the table waiting, with the laptop open, mocking him on twitter.
He returned 5 minutes later with the solution to our problem.

After we had all of the supplies we needed, we started to make the confetti rockets. We were cutting, gluing, measuring all the while talking, being silly and laughing.

It was wonderful, really, the 3 of us, in our crafting bliss, but then I realized we needed tape. Tony went to find a roll of tape, while G and I continued cutting and gluing. He found a brand new roll and brought it to us. “I’ll open it, Daddy.” G said. “Oh, no, baby girl. Daddy will do it. It’ll be too hard for you.”
And that is when all hell broke loose.
He opened the tape, she got upset and started to cry. He didn’t realize what the big deal was, really. “Honey, it would have been to hard for you, that’s why daddy opened it. Come on, let’s finish our craft.”
“But I’m a big girl daddy! I can DO HARD THINGS!”
Not intentionally trying to hurt her, I laughed while looking at Tony. “She’s so independent. She wants to do everything herself. That’s what happens when you doubt her ability to do something.”
She didn’t find it as amusing as we did.
She ran to the sofa, picked up a picture of a unicorn that she has colored for me. She had taken so much time on that picture, being careful to stay in the lines and “choose beautiful colors for mommy.” She held the picture in the air and ripped it in half.
“I wanted to open the tape!” She cried as she ran towards the trash can. She opened it up, threw the picture in the trash and slammed the lid down.
My immediate reaction was to be angry with her. She was acting like a brat. I completely understood why she was upset in the first place. But the resulting Dramatics were over the top.
She walked over to the table and sat down. I frowned at her, because I wasn’t happy with what she had done. She looked up at me and said “are you sad that I tore your picture?” Then she hung her head down in shame. She got very quiet. And then, she broke.
“That was the picture that I made for you, because I love you. I’m sorry I ripped it and threw it away.”
She realized that she had done something that wasn’t very nice. And she was remorseful.
I picked her up and hugged her. “I loved that picture, G. I wish you hadn’t ripped it and thrown it away. But I know you were angry and sometimes we do things we shouldn’t when we’re angry.”
In that moment, I knew exactly what she felt like. I’ve done things I immediately wish I hadn’t when I was angry with a someone that I loved. I’ve said the most hurtful thing I could think of out of spite, I’ve thrown things, I’ve hung up on people.
She apologized, I forgave her. We hugged, she and her daddy hugged and we all took a few deep breaths so we could refocus. We all decided it was best if we put things away and finished the craft tomorrow. It was late, we were tired and even the girl agreed it would be best to go to sleep and come back to finish when we were nice and rested up.
Tony took her into the bathroom to brush her teeth while I began to pick up the mess we had made. I gathered a handful of trash, opened up the trashcan and saw the torn, wrinkled picture. I got all choked up when I saw it there. I remembered her little fingers working for hours to make that for me. I remember how proud she was when she finished it and handed it over to me. “I made this JUST for you, Mommy. And look! I stayed in the lines!” I picked up the pieces out of the trash. I began to put it back together. Then, I carefully taped it together. I smoothed it out as much as I could. By the time I was finished, you could barely tell what had happened earlier.
I couldn’t wait to show her. I put it behind my back and walked into the bathroom where she was still brushing her teeth.
“I have a surprise for you.” I said, in the same way she did when she first gave it to me.
I pulled the picture out and held it up.
Her eyes got THIS BIG. “My picture!” She screamed. “But, how did you fix it?” She asked, slightly bewildered. “I just taped it up in the back, see?” I showed her where I had put the tape.
A smile swept across her face. She ran over and hugged me. “Thank you Mommy. I love you and I promise I’ll never rip it ever again.”
Being a parent is so unpredictable. One minute, you’re happily cutting tissue paper, stringing beads with twine. The next you’re holding your weeping daughter in your arms, knowing what you say or do in that very moment will impact her delicate heart, mind and soul for days if not years to come. You do your best to make the correct choice in your response, take a deep breath and trust that it was the right one. And if it’s not, you own up to it, you say you’re sorry and vow to do better next time.
I think this time, I did the right thing.