What do you do when your kid has a broken heart?
Oh honey…that’s the worst; isn’t it?
Seeing your baby hurt is awful. Terrible. Excruciating. I would rather have another spinal headache than see my children hurt.
Last week, I was at the middle school selling slushies at lunch and witnessed this interaction: A 7th grade girl walks over to a table full of 7th grade boys and says to one: “‘Susie’ wants to know if you are really breaking up with her?” Without looking up from his chips, he nods his assent. Girl returns to her table and delivers the bad news to ‘Susie.’ ‘Susie’ gives Chip Boy a death stare, and her friends console her. Chip Boy continues eating completely unaware of the devastation he’s delivered.
I don’t know about you, but I fell in love with a few Chip Boys before I met my husband. And I met my husband at 17. We know these things are gonna happen. It’s normal growing up stuff. What can we do? Be a soft place to land…Listen. Take them shopping. For ice cream or alcohol depending on their age? Try not to offer too much advice…Offer some advice? Gently remind them that while it feels like the end of the world it’s not. I don’t know what works. Does anything really?
When I was younger–a month or so ago–I wanted to physically harm people who hurt my kids. But that doesn’t work because the kids who hurt our kids are someone else’s kids. Broken hearts can make mama bears violent.
Seriously though, there are no perfect solutions but lots of right things. The biggest lesson I’ve learned as a mother is universal: When love is your motive, your actions will always be right. Of course I’m talking about genuine, authentic, unselfish love and not ego-driven assholery wrapped up in claims of: I’m only saying or doing this because I love you.
There’s no magic to fix broken hearts. No “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” I’ve searched. We’ve got to breathe through the pain and hopefully walk away with the lesson that it came to teach us.
Fuck that, right? I hear you. I’m sorry. I’m with you. Me too.