Mean Girls

This is Joy's 3rd week in Kindergarten and I've already noticed she's getting a taste of some "mean" girls. Honestly, at 5 years old, they're already at this? As everyone was waiting outside for Mr. G (the teacher) to open the door, Joy stood there watching one of the girls show her bracelet to the other. Joy asked if she could see it, and the girl belted out an emphatic "no" while the other one put her hands over Joy's eyes. The girls saw me, and no, I did not give either of them the evil eye. I just looked at them as my heart sank a little, feeling sad for my little girl and disappointed that these girls were behaving badly. Both girls noticed my glance, and the hands were quickly pulled away, and the girl agreed to let Joy see the bracelet from afar. Then the third mean girl came and Joy greeted her, excitedly telling her about her trip to the beach yesterday. Her excitement was met with a rolling of the eyes, which quickly stopped when the other mean girl told her that I was watching.

As I watched Joy through all these episodes, I could see a tinge of disappointment, but I am amazed at how she just brushes it off. Maybe it's all naiveness, but there is something else about her that is able to manage the "meaness." I can't name it, but I sure can sense it. I'd like to think that she's armored with her brother's beautiful strength, that incredible, powerful strength to face any obstacle.

I don't understand meanness. And I truly, truly can't stand it when it is directly at my daughter. I can't always be there to watch or protect her when a mean strike occurs. Yes, I would like to go up to the girls instantly and give them a talking to when it happens, but 1) I am not their parent and 2) it would embarrass Joy. Every day I wish I could put on an invisible, magic armor that would shield and repel any and all mean spirits, unkind words, bullies and general ugliness from my beautiful girl. But, this is life, and she's going to have to figure out how to guide herself through bad situations. All I can do is tell her how much I love her, and remind her that there is still a lot of goodness and good people in the world.

Man, being a parent is so hard.

Soap

After an unproductive visit to Kaiser the other day, I stopped by the bathroom on my way out. As I washed away the lather, that familiar scent of hospital soap gently reminded me of Ryan. For a moment, I was taken back in time to the NICU unit where I always washed my hands before visiting him. Days after he died, I would yearn to smell that fresh, clean hospital soap scent because if I could smell it, then he must be around and I could see him again.

As I stood there in the bathroom, I kept pumping the soap in my hands to make sure the aroma was strong enough so the scent would linger longer. After I dried my hands, I closed my eyes and deeply inhaled. My hands smelled clean, pure - just like Ryan. For a moment, he was alive again.

I must have looked like such a nerd walking to the parking structure with my hands pressed close to my face. But I didn't care. And when I finally sat in the car, I covered my face with my hands and breathed deeply. Over and over again, remembering the time when I touched him, held his tiny fingers, stroked his little brown head and gazed at his beautiful round face. Then I cried. I cried and cried and cried...

I don't think I was hurting myself for doing what I did. It's actually so healing to me. That scent will always be a beautiful reminder of my sweet, loving boy. It will always bring me comfort and transport me to a time when he was living and I was alive with hope.