Yesterday afternoon I left to meet my sister and nephew in town, which is about 35 miles away. I was excited, thinking about the baby fix I was soon going to get.
Approximately 16 miles down the road, I got an urgent text message from the kids: “Remy killed Tiger!”
Remy is our little Yorkie-Poo and Tiger was one of our two farm kittens. Rachel brought Tiger over from her grandparents’ ranch to keep our kitten, Calli, and her mother, Meow, company. Tiger was hand-picked because she liked to follow Rachel around whenever she was outside. Since R much prefers the company of animals to that of humans, Tiger was the perfect addition to her slew of non-human pals.
Remy, the perpetrator of this crime
This, I knew, was devastating news as Remy had (accidentally?) killed Calli’s sibling a couple months ago, when the kittens had just started opening their eyes. We think he just got too rough with them because he’s a very sweet and playful dog.
I called to see how everyone was. Andie, as usual, answered in her business-like, rather unsympathetic, tone. I heard crying in the background.
“Are they OK?” I inquired, wondering how she could be so unaffected.
“I don’t know. Cody and Rachel are bawling. Here, listen,” she answered, holding the phone closer to the sobbing kids.
I heard howling cries from the pair of them, sounds of despair and loss, and I knew this was worse than I had initially thought.
“Rachel wants you to come home,” Andie said, getting back on the phone.
Oh no. By this time, I was halfway to town, my van bumping over the isolated, poorly paved road.
“Hang on, I’ll call you back,” I said.
I pulled over to the side of the road. What to do? I was completely torn.
On the one hand, I was halfway to my destination and it would cost gas and time, neither of which I had much of, to go back. Also, my sister was presumably waiting for me to meet her. Then, of course, there was the oh-so-powerful draw of the baby fix I was so desperately wanting. My arms literally ached to hold my two-week-old nephew.
On the other hand, two of my kids were at home, broken-hearted and grieving, with no one there to comfort them, certainly not their responsible, if unmoved, sister. I pictured Rachel, ten years down the road, in session with her therapist, saying, “Yeah, there was this one time when my dog killed my kitten and my mom DIDN’T EVEN CARE!”
Sighing, I knew what I had to do, even if I ended up being of virtually no help, which I highly suspected. It was a pivotal parenting moment, one of those that would surely etch itself into Rachel’s memory, and probably Cody’s too. No time or gas is too much to let my kids know that they are first, that their needs are my first priority, that I love them beyond all reason and would do anything for them.
I’ll never regret my decision. Even if I wasn’t a whole lot of help, beyond some comforting hugs and words, I firmly believe that coming back home made an impression with my kids, just as it would have left them with a bad memory if I hadn’t.
And besides, I was able to get my baby fix later that afternoon. In the end, we all got what we needed.
What are some of your pivotal parenting moments? How did you handle them? Do you wish you would have done anything differently?
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I would have done the same thing, Sarah. I’m sure the memory of your coming back for your children at a time like this will stay with them forever. Glad you were able to get your baby fix later on that day, too!
What an incredible, sad, poignant day for you. I, too, would have turned around and gone home. Some things can only be done once (like turning around and going home, in this case), others we as parents have the opportunity to revisit.
You made the right decision! You are a good mom!
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What a tough moment! Yes, I agree you did the right thing. And I especially feel for your “mother hen” who tries to hold things together. she is beautiful!