In a surprising turn of events, today's meltdown wasn't by my son. It was me. Yes, I admit I had a sudden emotional breakdown this Christmas Eve.
Why? To sum it up: it's been a rough year for me. Between serious marital issues, the everyday stress of raising a spirited young child, a miscarriage, the passing of my last remaining grandparent, and the usual holiday hoopla ... it apparently all came to a head after a brief conversation with my brother this morning, during which I got stressed about not really getting anything for my parents AND two nephews. After I hung up the phone, all I could do was put my head down on the table and burst into tears.
My son - my dear, beautiful, and caring child - immediately came to my side and asked what was the matter. "Mom? You sad? Why you cwying, mom? Mom? Why you cwying??" I've always been so proud of how easily he tunes in to other people's distress; he always notices when a baby is crying nearby, and it melts my heart when I see him try to comfort friends when they're crying. Recently, a friend of his had a little crying meltdown during a birthday party - my son knelt down next him and put an arm around him for comfort, then ran off to give him a tissue for his tears. Later that day, I told him how proud I was that he was being so nice to his friend when he was sad.
Tonight, I made sure to tell him again how proud I am of him and how happy he made me. This morning, when I was having my own meltdown, the sincerity in his voice when he kept asking me why I was crying, and even the very simple act of running to the bathroom to get me tissues, was reason enough for me to snap out of my funk and appreciate the good things in my life.
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