It Comes with a Bang

It's always when I least expect it that the princess zaps me with some deep question that has been forming in her head for who knows how long and leaves me wondering how in the world I'm going to make it through middle school.

Last weekend we stopped at the pumpkin patch and then hit up Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon (which is totally crazy) and we were driving home when she asked..."Mom, was Little Man's Mom sad to give him up?"

I told her that yes, it made her very sad. So, she asked me if it made his Mom sad then why did she do it. I knew then we were in for a long conversation at that point. I tried as best I could to explain that just because something makes us sad doesn't mean it's not the right decision or that it's a bad thing.

She sat quiet for a few minutes and then came the next question..."Was my Mom sad?"

This is when the reality of how different our children's situations are hits. Here was a question that I could guess the answer too, but I really didn't know. I know those first days were hard, but since we had no contact at all with the princesses Mom I have no idea how she is. But with Little Man I see the sadness.

Then she told me that it makes her sad that she doesn't look like anybody. And she did look sad. Thankfully before I could really form an answer she reminded herself that she did look like Aunt Sarah, and she's right. She couldn't look anymore different than I do.

Then she wanted to know what it would be like to live with her Mom. I'm not sure how much of that was actually a question and how much of it just musing and wonderings. As far as we know her Mom lives on the coast and that seems somewhat glamorous to her! We talked about things would be different and it was hard to not scream out loud how different our lives here would be.

Finally she wanted to know what her Mom knew about her. I explained how I had to write letters once a year and talk all about her. Thankfully I have kept all those letters so they were at her disposal to read. I told her that basically I get the chance to write a letter once a year and brag about how cool she is. (And she is pretty cool!)

By the time we got home the conversation was over for the moment. But these conversations are far from over in general as she tries to figure out where she fits.