It is a common occurrence that my children are wiser and smarter and kinder than I am. I learn from them constantly. This past week, I've been learning empathy.
First lesson: Empathy in the face of fear
I got off a very stressful, emotionally charged phone call, and had an emotional breakdown. Full-on hyperventilating, sobbing, collapsed on the kitchen floor kind of breakdown. The kind any sane person would stay away from. My son, A, four years old, heard me from the other room. He crept in, just to the edge, holding onto his tablet with white knuckles. "Mommy, what happened?" He asked. I couldn't speak, I was still hyperventilating. All I could do was hold out my arms, for a hug, and hope that he would accept. He did. He put down his tablet, walked across the kitchen to what was surely scary to him - his mother completely out of control of her emotions. He let me hug him for a long time. Finally, I don't know which of us broke the hold - probably me. He stepped back, and again asked, "Mommy, what happened?" I gave him a simple answer, something like, "I had a bad phone call but it's nothing that concerns you." He told me, "Take a deep breath, Mommy, that always helps me." And he stood there while I did.
Here's what I find amazing - He approached someone who had completely lost it and offered empathy. I knew he was scared - I could see it, but couldn't do anything to calm myself down. He still came. I've seen strangers losing it like I was. I wasn't able to approach them. Now, yes, they were strangers; I would be able to help my husband or a friend, but I'm also an adult. He's only four and was able to overcome his fear of what was going on with me to make sure I was ok, then to help me be ok and to stay with me while I got there.
Second lesson: Empathy for those who have hurt you
I was in the kitchen, making dinner, and A and Z were in the living room, playing. She's two, he's four; they got to roughhousing. I could hear her yelling at him to stop - really, really yelling, like on the verge of, if you don't stop I will kill you, kind of yell. This went on for several minutes - never to the point of her getting hurt, but she was clearly pissed off. I'm not sure what happened, possibly A got hurt by Z in her attempt to get him to stop; either way, A started sobbing. Really, really, sobbing. At this point, I went in to check, but as I go in, I see that she's stopped crying, and she's gone over to him to give him a hug. A really good hug, a whole body hug; just minutes before, she wanted to kill him. But now, when he's actually hurt or upset, she's instantly able to offer that comfort. No questions, no holding back; a little sister giving her big brother love. I think as adults we hold onto grudges, and we expect our children to, as well. But our children don't. At least, mine don't. Not when it really matters.
Third Lesson: Love is more important than being right
We were outside, the two of them playing while I weeded. A told Z that she couldn't play with something - that she was too small, only he could play with it because he's big enough. She came running out to me, sobbing, A won't let me play! I just want that! (She says "that" for everything right now. Even if the thing is nowhere near us, like in the other room. I want that! And I'll ask her to take me to it, and we end up at the opposite end of the house. Anyway, side story over.) He hears her, comes out. "I'm sorry, Z, you can play, it's ok. You can play." She didn't seem to hear him, so I told her, "A says he's changed his mind, you can play now." Instantly she's happy. A says, "Yes, you got upset so I changed my mind. When you get upset I change my mind, because I don't want you to be upset." And together they go off to play.
How often have we heard - or said - the sentiment that we can't give in to our children's tantrums because then they'll control us? Oh, I'd buy that candy for him if he'd just ask nicely. I'd play that game with her if she'd just ask nicely. I'd make food for them if they'd just ask nicely, but since they threw a tantrum, well I can't, they'll think they can walk all over me. I've often questioned this sentiment, but could never really put into words why. Why did I disagree? It just seemed wrong. But my son said it so well. She was upset, so I changed my mind because I want her to be happy. Her happiness was paramount for him - not that he was right, or that she listened to him, or that she not think she could get away with things in the future. Simply that his sister, who he loves, is happy. Now, clearly, there are legitimate times where saying yes isn't good. I want to play with that knife! Well, no, I think maybe I'll give you this thing that won't send you to the hospital. But if the ONLY reason I'm saying no is to prove a point, to not let my kids walk over me, to not give in lest they think they can get away with more - that's just hurtful. I'm putting my own needs, my own pride, and self-worth, over their happiness and well-being.
So there you have it. My kids, at 2 and 4, have more empathy than I do. Sometimes, at least. There are still the times where they don't budge, where A keeps pushing Z or keeps the toy from her despite her utter agony over it, where Z doesn't care that A is upset, only that she's been hurt. I still count it as a win, that they care. Most of the time they care for each other, I have had nothing to do with it.
