Cate was yelling at me. Again.
Every day it’s the same story. I pick Cate up from school and she happily shows me the new trick she can do on the peddle car; the stone she dug up in the sand pit; how many times she can
hop the jump rope on one foot. We find Eden and start the ten minute walk home. By minute seven Cate is screaming about something. Anything.
We started with sympathy, then moved on to time outs, and I’m sure at some point there’s been some yelling on my part as well. Clearly Cate was struggling with the transition between school and home. Clearly she was angry. And clearly whatever she was yelling about was not what was really bothering her.
Finally, I sat her down at the kitchen table and got down at eye level. I addressed her very calmly and very seriously, “Cate. This isn’t working. You’re having trouble moving between being at school and being at home. I can see that you are angry, right?”
“Yes! I. AM. ANGRY!” (also crying)
“It’s totally okay to be angry. But screaming at Mommy is not okay, right?”
“RIGHT! OKAY? OKAY? RIGHT! RIGHT! RIGHT!”
“Did you know anger is a cover-up emotion? It covers up some other emotion. Something else is hiding under there.”
“It is?” (now backing down to mere sniffles)
“Yes. And I need you to think about it and tell me what it is that’s hiding under there.”
With that, the floodgates broke open. She missed all the friends she left behind when we moved. She didn’t have any friends at school. And she missed BF Day (her old school.) And some of the kids said mean things. And she doesn’t know Danish yet. And her only friends who speak English live far, far away. And did she mention, she didn’t have any friends at school?
Well, I’d already addressed all of those things. We talked about how making friends was her superpower, but that it took time. I had reminded her that we had only been at the new school for 2 weeks. I had explained that it would take a little longer than usual because we don’t know Danish yet. But, I had assured her, friends would come.
Knowing I’d already said all of this, and having a not unsmall amount of parental wisdom, I did not go into this again. Instead I asked her a question of clarification, “Cate. Do you want Mommy to talk about all these problems with you, or do you just need someplace to put them all.”
“Like what place?”
“Like a shrine.”
“I could make a shrine?”
Sure could. I dove under my desk and came up with three or four odd little boxes and tins. Cate chose a tin that used to hold bandages – Jesus bandages to be exact. After asking for stickers, tape and some scratch paper, Cate went to work. Soon she had a bonafide Shrine for Hard Feelings. It consisted of the bandage tin, a sticker of a sacred heart Jesus, some fortune cookie sized strips of paper cello-taped to the side, and one of those tiny golf pencils. Cate wrote her hard feelings down on the pieces of paper and tucked them into the tin.
“If I put these in here, Jesus will make the sad feelings go away.” she said.
“Well,” I fine tuned, “Jesus might not make them go all the way away, but at least he can hold them for a little while.”
Cate has been faithfully using the Shrine for Hard Feelings for a week now. Sometimes she’ll start ramping up into a yell-fest, but then you can see her sort of visibly pull up, and she’ll say “Wait a minute,” and go find her shrine. I’ll see her scribbling away, then tucking the paper into the tin and snapping it shut. A few minutes later she’ll be back with me, or her sister, or her dad, and the steam will have been vented.
Sometimes I wonder what all my ad hoc spirituality is teaching my children. I'm trying my best -- but so did my parents, and my church, and my religious school -- and I sure ended up with a bunch of crap mixed in there with the goodies. If I make up random sacraments, if my children spend their lives building shrines for hard feelings and hurling plates at anger altars, will they regret it? I am not sure. But this I believe; my attempts, though small and flawed and most assuredly open for misinterpretation, these humble attempts at caring for these precious souls will teach them these true things
Your feelings are real.
Someone loves you enough to help in hard times.
God (or the Universe) is big enough to handle your anger.
There is a place for you.
That seems like a good place to start.
Rachelle Mee-Chapman blogs at Magpie Girl. For updates about her on line writing all over the web, follow her on Twitter.
(June 2008) (
