the hurt finger
0 comment Thursday, April 3, 2014 |
So, we put Son in after school club this week to give us all a break. The school know what's been happening and why we are doing this and were supportive. We have tried our best to make sure that Son doesn't see this as a punishment. If he does see it that way, he hasn't shown it. He was wriggly with excitement at the idea of it. We told Daughter that we are worried about how her brother's behaviour affects her and that we wanted to give her some space at home. She didn't at first give any clue how she felt about it.
Then on the Tuesday, the day that Husband and I were ripped apart by CAMHS, I had picked Daughter up from school and we were driving home. She brought up Son being in the club. He had really enjoyed it the day before and Daughter asked if she could do it sometime. Of course she could, I said, the club sounded great with computer clubs, art clubs, reading clubs, film clubs, of course she could. I took the chance to check with her if she really knew why Son was doing it this week. Because of how he behaved last Thursday, she said. That's right, I said and added that we wanted to give her a bit of a break and let her have some chill-out time after school. It's not fair that he gets all the attention all the time, is it Mummy? No, it isn't. I shouldn't have to keep going to my room all the time to get away from him, should I? No, you shouldn't.
She seemed fine. When we got back home she went upstairs to the toilet and suddenly screamed out for me. I ran up the stairs and she was screaming that she'd knocked her hand on the clothes horse, Mummy it hurts it hurts Mummy it hurts. I held her, hugged her, kissed her hair, Mummy's here, Mummy's here. She was shaking. I took her hand and asked her to show me where it hurt and she pointed to the back of her hand and I kissed it and kissed it, and I slapped the naughty clothes horse for hurting my Daughter. She laughed. We hugged again and she melted into me. Not the usual stiff, awkward hug of a girl who doesn't know how to hug, but a genuine hug.
I managed to settle her down with a drink and a snack in front of the telly. Then I went off and sobbed down the phone to a friend. My Daughter always communicates her emotional pain through pretend physical pain. Later on in the day, the pain transfered to her little finger and she was telling me that she couldn't bend it, and that it hurt her. There was nothing wrong with her finger, but I kept kissing it and kissing it and hugging her anyway.

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