My dishwasher's possessed

one mom's attempt to find humor in the chaos

Losing Barbie, Finding My Princess

By

Each time I open one of my kid’s lunch bags, I feel like a TV executive receiving the previous night’s ratings. The goldfish are gone—yea, we have a hit. The popcorn looked like a sure-fire winner. Yet it was not touched. Pull it. I am ruthless. I can’t waste time and money on a snack that doesn’t score.
As a mom, I have to make quick decisions every day. Many are no more important than what snack to buy at the market.
Too often the stakes are higher. Some choices, whether they are made quickly or with much prayer and thought, have deeper consequences.
This past summer, I thought nothing of cleaning out my daughter’s toys. Our princess is the only girl in our family, and she is much loved by not only us, but by every teacher, therapist, grandparent, uncle, aunt, and bus driver she encounters. She accumulates more Barbies and stuffed animals than anyone I know. She loves anything girly and pink, and people are only too happy to shower her with gifts, which she graciously accepts with her wonderful smile and giggle.
I’m not proud to admit this, but one of the benefits of having a child who has a lot of neurological issues is that her memory is pretty limited. In the past, I’ve tossed away scores of Barbies and other toys that outlived their prime and she never noticed. She would go in her room and play with whatever she saw on her bed and be very happy.
That was before she started taking medication.
Putting our then seven-year-old daughter on a mood stabilizer was not an easy choice. We had tried everything up to that point, but nothing worked. She would have indescribable meltdowns that came out of nowhere.
My breaking point came when we were out to dinner one night and she started screaming and crying. I rushed her into the ladies’ room where she started to scream louder, “No, no, I want my Mommy.”
At that moment, she had no idea who I was. When she came out of it, she had no memory of what happened.
I cried the first time I gave her the medicine. The reality of the situation came crashing down on me. She was disabled, and this was not going to magically disappear no matter how hard we wished or prayed.
The drugs our princess takes make it possible for her to go to school and have as normal a life as possible. We can go out as a family without worrying she will fall apart.  
The medications have also improved her memory.
This became evident after that fateful room cleaning. I was in shock when she clearly and calmly said, “Mommy, I can’t find my Princess Barbie in the pink dress.”
I was thrilled she expressed herself so clearly. I was thrilled she remembered the Princess Barbie. Then I remembered that Barbie was a casualty of the cleaning.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Would she understand why I got rid of it? Would she be hurt that I didn’t take her feelings in to account? Was I the worst mother in the world? (I felt like it when I heard her looking for the doll. “Princess Barbie, where are you? You are my best friend.”)
My husband was ready to rush out and buy a replacement. I was tempted as well, but I decided to talk with her. I calmly explained that I made a mistake. The next time I would have her help me decide which toys should stay and which should go.
“I love you mommy” was her response. “I forgive you.”
Then I ran out and bought a new Barbie.
Being a decision-maker means sometimes I will choose wrong. Just like a TV executive who turns down a pilot for a show that ends up being a hit on another network.
Becoming a mother didn’t make me infallible. But it’s reassuring when one of my mistakes can be forgiven with an “I love you” and a kiss.

Comments

  2. Spilled Milkshake says

    I have been guilty of tossing things my kids wanted (I am the total opposite of a hoarder – I’m a tosser lol) and found that apologizing is the best course always. Kids really appreciate the honesty and knowing that moms and dads make mistakes, too. Even with all her issues, she understood and learned to admit her mistakes.

    I would have run out and bought a replacement immediately, too lol!

    Christina

    Visit me at Spilled Milkshake

    P.S. Visiting from voiceBoks!

    ♥ xoxo

    • Kathy says

      Thanks for checking this one out!! I’ve always liked this post, I think because it was the first time I started to write about Lizzy! Thanks for the Anniversary wishes, it goes so fast!! Love you!!

  4. OneMommy says

    So adorable that she accepted the loss of the doll and said she loved you. And good to know that mistakes are made and she loves you anyway. Sweet.

    • Kathy says

      Thanks so much for visiting! I felt horrible about this. The next time I cleaned out her stuff I went through them with her. It’s a learning process with any child, but with a special needs child it does require a bit more thought as I found out the hard way!! Thanks again!!

  5. Lexie says

    I think you did the right thing. One year my dad had me through out my barbies, and my mom kind devoted took them out of the trash and washed them. She washed their clothes and everything.

    Then she had a talk with my dad. I was upset but I forgave my dad. He thought it was time for me to stop playing with Barbie and simply didn’t understand.

  6. Kathy says

    I think I felt so guilty because I just sort of took for granted that she wouldn’t remember. It was a bittersweet moment because I was thrilled she actually was present enough to know it was missing and was able to verbalize it, but I felt horrible that I didn’t take her feelings into account!! I learned that one the hard way!! Thanks so much for visiting!!

  9. Sarah says

    I love her response at the end. SO sweet. Always good when your child understands. Also good that you decided to explain things first. I am sure she LOVED the barbie you got her too. 🙂

Much thanks to Joseph Radigan, who besides being a great husband and father, also uses his talents to gently and ever so tactfully edit my blog. Joe is a business editor at Thomson Reuters in NY.
J9 Designs