Have You Forgiven Me?
The boys said, “Let’s go to the park!” And so we did.
On the way out the door, Shane said he was hungry. “Can I have a mint?”
A mint didn’t seem like a sufficient snack when we were about to walk a couple of miles. And I thought we could all benefit from a small snack.
“Why don’t you get a granola bar and split it?” I suggested.
“Okay,” he said. He got a granola bar, split it in half, and gave half to Dylan, which was gone before the boys walked out the door. Shane took a huge bite out of his half and almost nothing was left.
“What about me?” I said, still a bit hungry.
“I didn’t know you wanted any,” Shane said, pulling off a few crumbling chunks and trying to give them to me.
And this is when I discovered my quandary. My baby was hungry, and he needed that granola bar. But I was hungry, too.
Worse than my hunger was the feeling that I had been forgotten. Overlooked. Neglected. Like I wasn’t worthy, in my son’s eyes, of getting a piece of the granola bar.
I certainly wasn’t starving, and I could stand to lose a few pounds anyway. And if hunger were the issue, any reasonable, rational person would have gone back into the house and gotten another granola bar to eat, or split again.
But I wasn’t feeling rational. I was feeling neglected.
So instead of getting another bar, I stormed away with the dog in tow, walking 15 feet ahead of the kids all the way to the park, grumbling the whole time.
“It’s like I don’t even count,” I said. “I spend all day, every day, making sure that you’re happy and fed, but when you get a granola bar to split, it never even occurs to you to give me a piece!”
Shane apologized at least eight times, but it didn’t help. I didn’t yell, but I certainly wasn’t a pleasant walking companion.
When we got to the park, I sent the kids to the playground and took a solitary walk through the fields without them. I stopped to watch some softball, which helped me to separate from my anger and see it in better perspective.
By the time we got home, Shane was holding my hand and we were almost joking about it.
But these are the moments that keep me awake at night, feeling guilty – when I let my emotions get the best of me, and take out my personal issues on my innocent children.
So as I was tucking in Shane I asked, “Have you forgiven me for the granola bar incident?”
“Have you forgiven me?” he asked without hesitation.
I hugged him. “Of course I have,” I said. “And I’m so sorry for my behavior. It wasn’t your fault; I was just feeling sad.” I kissed his head. “And I will always forgive you.”