Zero out of three
Because I made a mistake at work today, I was castigated (more venomously that my error warranted, I feel, but that's by-the-by). Because of the time it took to fix my mistake, I left the office late. Because of that, I screwed up stareyednight's carefully-timed dinner plans, so we couldn't eat together as a family before she left to perform. And because I didn't listen to LJ, who'd suggested we visit Santa's magic cave before doing anything else, we were turned away by an elf as it was too near to closing time.
I nearly lost my mind at the poor pixie, but two things stopped me. The first was the realisation I was actually angry with myself. Angry, embarrassed and ashamed. When your kids are little, they've no idea of how things work and accept your word as gospel. If LJ was three or four when this had happened, I would have said "Santa's asleep, we'll come back next week" and all would be cool. Now she's eight... and the brilliant, hyper-intelligent eight that she is... LJ understands all that goes on. She knows that Daddy screwed up, that she was right, that her disappointment is the result of someone else's ignorance. And that made me burn inside.
The other thing that stopped me was LJ's incredibly mature, immensely brave response to being disappointed by her father. "It's okay, Daddy," she said, giving me a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We'll come back next Saturday instead." It was a front for my benefit; the kid's heart was clearly breaking (she'd been so excited for a Daddy/Daughter night ending in Christmas magic). We made it to the escalators before the tears started. I dried them as LJ continued to insist she wasn't upset. After I'd assured her honesty was welcome, and apologised for screwing up by not listening to her, LJ gave in to her feelings. She had a cry, forgave me and dejectedly followed me home.
I always say my life's fine as long as just one of its three major facets (LJ, stareyednight, work) is okay, so I'm not going to lie: I feel terrible right now. So damn stupid, careless and thoughtless. I've done a grand-old job of screwing everything up tonight and putting my daughter to bed in a state of disappointment. That she's handled it much better than I only makes it sting all the more.
I pray she never internalises like I do. And that it's a while before this happens again.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF
I nearly lost my mind at the poor pixie, but two things stopped me. The first was the realisation I was actually angry with myself. Angry, embarrassed and ashamed. When your kids are little, they've no idea of how things work and accept your word as gospel. If LJ was three or four when this had happened, I would have said "Santa's asleep, we'll come back next week" and all would be cool. Now she's eight... and the brilliant, hyper-intelligent eight that she is... LJ understands all that goes on. She knows that Daddy screwed up, that she was right, that her disappointment is the result of someone else's ignorance. And that made me burn inside.
The other thing that stopped me was LJ's incredibly mature, immensely brave response to being disappointed by her father. "It's okay, Daddy," she said, giving me a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We'll come back next Saturday instead." It was a front for my benefit; the kid's heart was clearly breaking (she'd been so excited for a Daddy/Daughter night ending in Christmas magic). We made it to the escalators before the tears started. I dried them as LJ continued to insist she wasn't upset. After I'd assured her honesty was welcome, and apologised for screwing up by not listening to her, LJ gave in to her feelings. She had a cry, forgave me and dejectedly followed me home.
I always say my life's fine as long as just one of its three major facets (LJ, stareyednight, work) is okay, so I'm not going to lie: I feel terrible right now. So damn stupid, careless and thoughtless. I've done a grand-old job of screwing everything up tonight and putting my daughter to bed in a state of disappointment. That she's handled it much better than I only makes it sting all the more.
I pray she never internalises like I do. And that it's a while before this happens again.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF