The Six Stages of Broken

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Last Saturday morning, Iz and I were in the family room watching America’s Next Top Model together. Iz is usually more into the show than I am, telling me that she’ll “pause” it every time I get up to do something. Believe it or not, I usually say, “Nah. Don’t bother.”

At one point, she lost her zealousness. I turned to look at her. She was in a headstand on the couch, and then she began to bang her feet against the window.

I said, “Iz, please do not do that. Sit up, and stop banging your feet against the window. That’s the way people get hurt and things get broken.” I thought then how much I sounded like my mother; but it was so good to hear my Mom's voice again. Iz said defiantly, “Well, I’m not bothering you!” Ironically, I knew I had said that to my mom's voice before.

I said, “Iz!!!!!” I would have ended that exclamatory statement with, “Period,” but sadly it didn’t fit! She righted herself, got off the couch, and then trotted upstairs.

Just as Jay Manuel told one model that she needed to take more direction from her photographer, I heard a HUGE crash from upstairs. I got up and did the fastest 15-yard dash of my life while thinking and wondering “That was glass! Is Iz hurt?” As I approached the stairs, I heard Iz’s footsteps traveling South; she said, “Mommy, I didn't do anything! I don’t know what happened!”

Immediately, Babel Fish, located in the parental lobe of my brain (they don’t advertise it, but it’s there!), kicked in. I heard what Iz said; however, my brain began to translate her words. Suddenly, “Mommy, I didn't do anything! I don’t know what happened!” translated into “Mommy, I did it. I know exactly what happened.”

Seeing Iz was intact with no scrapes, bruises, or missing limbs, I rushed up the stairs with her following closely behind. She said, “Mommy, I just heard this loud noise! I didn't do anything!” My instinct was to pop my head into Nathan’s room; and, my instinct was right.

Denial

I saw Nathan's beautiful blue art glass swan bowl in about 147 pieces on his bedroom floor. I yelled, “Oh, no!” I looked back at Iz, and as she said, “Really, Mommy, I don’t know what happened,” she started to cry. Sensing she knew exactly what happened, I looked back and said, “Iz, now’s the time to tell the truth.”

It wasn’t a very expensive bowl; however, Nathan had bought it at the flea market a few years ago and paid for it himself. It had cost him $25, which was a lot to him then. It was near and dear to his heart, especially since he kept his supply of M&Ms in it!

Truth

Iz, sensing my distinct disappointment and sadness, began to sob so badly that she began to gulp for air. I scooped her up in my arms and sat down with her on her bed. She said, “I was on Nathan’s bed, and then I hit the bowl with my hand.”

Again, Babel Fish kicked in. I heard, “I was on Nathan’s bed doing cartwheels, and I knocked the bowl off his bureau.” I told her that it was okay, but I reminded her about what I had said earlier; it wasn't okay to do gymnastics in the house.

Hysterics

Iz began sob more, even after I reassured her. Ironically and happily, she was more concerned about Nathan than what I thought about the incident. She became inconsolable.

I remember a lot of good things about my Mom. One of the best things, which has consoled my children more times than I can remember, was her “Take a deep breath” theory when we were sobbing uncontrollably.

Once you say it, they think about it. They take one or two deep breaths while you rub their backs. Finally, they can actually speak a word without gasping for air.

Guilt

Once Iz was able to speak, she said, “Nathan’s going to hate me. He won’t be my brother anymore!” She began to sob a bit again. I said, “No. He will always be your brother. He will not hate you, Iz.”

I told her that she would have to replace Nathan’s bowl. She said while totally weepy, “Fine. I will give him my $17!” I told her that perhaps she could do extra chores instead of giving up her cash; in that moment, she accepted the plea bargain.

I then explained to her how it was important to listen. She had broken Nathan’s favorite bowl, but she could have been seriously injured from the broken glass. Even if she felt she knew best all the time, most of the time, I knew better.

Compensation (Google)

Nathan was at work while all of this happened. I texted him to tell him, and I tried to ask him to be lenient with his sister. Shortly after Iz went to bed, I googled, “glass swan bowl.” Amazingly, I saw a picture of the exact bowl Nathan had, though it was green and not blue.

A small antiques store in Vermont was selling the bowl for $35. I bought it. I sent the picture to Nathan to let him know that I didn’t take his bowl lightly.

In this situation, some parents might have asked the older sibling to “forget” it. I knew they both should “remember” it. Nathan should know that I respected his belonging; Iz should know that she was responsible for her actions and for replacing Nathan’s belonging.

The next morning, Iz kept asking, “Is Nathan up yet?” She knew that she had to apologize. Once Nathan was up, I called her upstairs; though, I had to call her a few times.

She plodded up the stairs and ever so slowly walked the five feet to Nathan's room. She popped her head half-heartedly in the door. She mumbled in a whisper as she hung her head low and said, “Nathan, I’m sorry I broke your bowl.”

Nathan, who had been somewhat pre-programmed said, “I’m disappointed you broke my bowl, but I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” In that moment, Iz was redeemed. And she walked off, as if all was forgotten, well, even the extra chores she was supposed to do to make amends for Nathan’s bowl.

I didn’t demand her $17. I only asked that she do a few extra chores, which would amount to far less than I spent on Nathan's new bowl which cost $40 by the time shipping from VT was added in. They involved walking Monty around the house two or three times, helping to vacuum, which she loved anyway, and carrying in grocery bags.

Indignation

On Sunday, I asked, “Will you walk Monty around the house three times, Iz?” She frowned, started to pout, and then began to whimper. She said, “I might as well have wasted my $17 on Nathan!”

I tried to explain to her that she didn’t “waste” her money. I never asked for her money. I asked for her to do chores to earn money, and it was not a waste to replace an item she ruined.

We wrestled over this for most of the weekend. While she admitted to breaking the bowl and feeling badly about it, she didn’t really want to do “the time” for it. Understandably so, but in our family, she would do the time and buy a new bowl.

Today, we're still struggling with this; I think it’s less about the compensation part and more about the guilt she feels. She doesn’t want to walk away from the compensation, but she can’t get over the guilt. I’ve tried hard not to make her feel guilty; I’ve only tried to make her understand that she needs to make it right, and that Nathan and I love her no less because of it.

Nathan’s bowl arrived in the mail today. I didn’t point it out to Iz, because I didn’t want to make her feel guilty. She said to me, “Mom, did you see Nathan’s new bowl?”



I said I did, but that was all I said. While Iz was perfect in my eyes, she had much more to learn, and, come to think of it, so did I. At 48, I knew I had learned many things, but there were plenty of things I had to learn again, too. Thankfully, Iz can learn from me, I can learn from her, and we can hold hands as we learn together. ♥