Author name: Sandra Tayler

Gleek trudged to the car, the very picture of forlorn sadness. She scraped each foot across the snow slowly, shoulders slumped, mouth turned down.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as she climbed in.
She did not answer. I put the car into gear and drove toward home. Link still needed to pack for a scout snowy camp out. We had already waited a long time for Gleek to arrive at the car. I did not want to spend more time in the parking lot trying to coax Gleek into talking. Instead I launched into a described outline of the afternoon schedule. This included packing for Link and piano lessons for Gleek.

Gleek objected immediately. She was not ready for piano lessons. She had not practiced. She did not want to go. I though this was probably the cause of the sadness. We scrambled through the piano lessons and the packing. When the chaos was done, we headed through the back yard for an afternoon with friends. Gleek and her friend got to watch a movie. Patch and his friend got to play Bionicles. My friend and I got to talk for hours. It was fun for everyone. But several times Gleek got shrieking mad with other people over very small issues. I was focused on relaxing and talking. I helped resolve each incident as it occurred, but gave no thought to the fact that Gleek was acting over the top, even by her standards.

Then at the very end of the evening, as we were preparing to leave, I was standing right next to Gleek when she shoved her friend and declared something to the effect of: “I’m not your friend anymore. I’ll never play with you again.” My rebuke was at a fairly high volume “Gleek! You don’t treat people that way!” Then I carried her upstairs to discuss before the necessary apology.

This is when I learned that Gleek had lost her bracelet, the one she had made herself. She lost it at school right at the end. Then she was scolded for crying loudly in the hallways. I am not yet ready to second guess the scolding. I am certain that Gleek’s grief was quite loud and very disruptive to the kids who were still studying. I’ll have to ask about the incident further to decide what, if anything, needs addressing.

Gleek carried the sadness of the lost bracelet all afternoon. She also carried shame from making a fuss and being scolded. She also carried anger that I had not tied the bracelet tighter. Those emotions roiled inside her and put her on a hair trigger. Then each incident with friends added to the anger and shame as each incident convinced Gleek even more thoroughly that she is a naughty girl who will never be able to behave herself.

I was too busy to see it. I was busy with good things, but that does not change the fact that I did not see Gleek’s emotional need until it exploded. I am often busy. I like being busy. But because I am busy, I sometimes miss things I could have caught. This is not me scolding myself or holding myself accountable. It is not possible for any human being to catch every warning sign of every trouble. I would go crazy if I tried. All I can do is try to pay attention and act on the things I do see when I see them.

Gleek and I had a good talk. Apologies were made. Emotions have been vented. Gleek will probably be more at peace with herself tomorrow. Hopefully this incident will add to the store of knowledge Gleek needs in order to moderate herself and play well with others. It is just hard to watch her having to learn lessons for herself when I already know the answers.

It had been a normal school morning, kids dawdling and my commands increasingly grouchy. I’d reached the point where Patch, Gleek, and Kiki were all in the car. Link was putting on his coat and I decided to take a second to throw some salt on the icy patch I’d slid on twice. I was in the garage when the screaming started. Parental ears are very good at picking out the different flavors of childhood screams, but like recognizing a voice on the phone, it takes a moment to figure out what you’re hearing. This was full-on shrieking panic from both Gleek and Kiki.

Time stretches in a crisis. In the next 10 seconds I:
Realized that although they were right next to me, they were on the other side of the closed garage door. The fastest route to get there was back through the house.
Wondered who I was going to need to scold because obviously someone had picked on another child.
Wondered if someone had somehow gotten smashed in a door or tangled in a seat belt.
Was met halfway through the house by Gleek shrieking that Patch was choking.
Ran out the front door.
I shouted “What’s wrong?!” uselessly.
Wondered how on earth Patch was choking and what he could possibly be choking on.
Realized that I was still holding the cup of salt.
Realized I was going to need both hands free.
Threw the salt at the icy patch as I ran past.
Tried to find the right balance between speed and not falling on my face.
Reached the car to find Patch and Kiki both crying in panic.

Patch was crying. This meant he could breathe. No heimlich necessary.

The next 5 minutes were spent attending primarily to Patch. He’d accidentally swallowed a hard candy (that I’d no idea he was even eating) and it got lodged in his throat. He panicked, which caused Kiki and Gleek to panic. Kiki had him half out of his seatbelt, ready to give him the heimlich, but she was afraid of hurting him and was not certain how to do it. The candy went down, but not before Patch gagged and threw up on himself. I took all the kids back into the house. The older three stood by while I helped Patch calm down and change clothes. As I was helping Patch, I also talked all the kids through the experience.
I told them that if someone is crying while they choke, that is good news because it means the choker can breathe.
I told them that the heimlich is most effective on cases where breathing is blocked completely.
I told them they had all done exactly right. I thanked Gleek for running to get me. I thanked Kiki for staying with Patch.
I explained about hard candies and why they’re not a good idea for small children.

Then I handed Patch off to Howard. Patch gets to miss school today. He was still too shaken to deal with going. The other three I took to school. We could spend all morning talking and debriefing and decompressing, but that would merely cement this in the kids’ minds as a Huge Traumatic Event. Much better for them if we just deal with the crisis, pass on useful information, and then continue as normal. That is part of Mommy crisis management. I always tamp down my emotional reactions until they won’t increase the upset of the kids. My tears came after the kids were all dropped at school and after I’d come home to find Patch sitting happily next to Howard and playing. That is when I take my time to cry a little and think all of those “what if” thoughts and say a prayer of gratitude that the crisis was minor.

I’m not sure when I learned to shunt my emotions aside as part of crisis management. It is a skill I’m grateful for. Learning to stop and feel those emotions later has been harder to learn. It seems a little silly to collapse after the crisis is over and everyone is already safe. But I guess I’m like Grandpa Smedry in the Alcatraz books. I arrive late to the emotional reaction, but I can’t skip it entirely.

Everyone is fine. And I am grateful for that.