We make it last as long as possible, milk every minute, live in denial that we'll have to go back; but the unspoken reality looms over us... Christmas vacation is over. Tomorrow it's back to the school and work routine, wake-up times and bed-times. So tonight it's book bags and lunch boxes to pack, showers and scrubbing, heading upstairs earlier than usual (even for a school night) to make up for the late night festivities of New Year's Eve, as well as to compensate for how out of practice and inefficient we've become with the getting-ready-for-bed routine.
Add to this our little "extra" who came to stay on Monday, New Year's Eve 2012. She's a five year-old sweetheart who is bright and happy and polite and beautiful. Samara and Sierra took her under their wings immediately so that I have had but a few moments with her myself. After a full day with her, we know little about her family or the situation that brought her to us; she has not asked how long she might stay (although my girls have - I think they're worried that their new playmate will leave before the novelty wears off) nor when she can see her mommy. When I asked the case worker about phone calls, she gave permission, but little sweetheart has not mentioned it at all.
As us girls were making our way slowly toward bed-time this evening, and Sierra and Samara were eventually tucked into bed and reading quietly until lights-out, LS and I spent some time getting bathed, lotioned, and dressed in pajamas. Standing by her bed, partially pajama-ed, LS began to cry and then sob.
Gently gathering her into a hug, I tried to quiet and calm her by asking some general questions: "Does something hurt?", "Are you hungry?", "Do you want your teddy bear?" But the crying continued and she was not able to answer, only to shake her head no.
Without knowing much about her background, it seemed tricky for me to try to guess at what might have triggered her upset-ness; the wrong question may have brought more trauma rather than comfort. We just sat, both of us on the floor, she on my lap with one arm around my neck, and me offering hugs and soothing (at least I hoped so) comments: "You're safe here."; "We're glad you are here."; "Tomorrow will be a fun day."
With little progress made, and an obviously over-tired little girl on my lap; I whispered a quick prayer for some guidance, then went ahead with more probing questions hoping for wisdom to deal with what the answers might be: "Are you sad because you miss your house?" Head shakes no. "Are you sad because you miss your bed?" Another no. "Are you sad because you miss your mommy?" She answered, "No." And the crying didn't get worse and she was able to then tell me what was bothering her.
Thankfully her upset was caused by a simple and typical situation which we were able to talk through and resolve. She calmed down enough to choose a bedtime story and when it was over, crawled quietly into bed. She accepted my good-night kiss on one cheek from me and on the other cheek from her mommy.
When I peeked in on her a few minutes later, she was peacefully sleeping. The end of day two in a whole new place.
Tomorrow holds more new experiences as we register for school and visit her kindergarten class room. There may be more crying and tears, more questions that lead to dead-ends, more hugs and holding. And no matter what it is, we will be here for this little sweetheart.
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