Something just happened.  Addie and William were playing happily in the backyard, we had the sliding door open so we could jump to attention in case one of them needed us.  After a little while I could hear the little girl next door, same age as Addie, join the kids.  Everything was fine.  Everyone was happy.

But then I heard Addie call from downstairs, “Mom!  William threw a rock at Lily and hurt her!” I ran downstairs, picked William up and headed toward the fence, where the kids always play.  Lily wasn’t anywhere to be found and Addie told me that she had gone inside, crying.  I held William as Addie cleared the pile of rocks from in front of the fence so I could take him to their door and have him apologize.

And there he was, Lily’s dad, storming down the path, obviously angry.

“I was just heading to your door so William could apologize to Lily, is she okay?” I asked.

He was visibly shaking, the kind of angry that takes you by surprise when you see it.  The kind of angry that raises your shackles when you know it’s directed at your kids.  “She’s hurt.  This isn’t the first time this has happened.”  He was flushed.

“What? What do you mean?” Complete confusion.

“Addie has thrown things at her twice before.  This just keeps happening.” As though my kids are the neighborhood bullies.

“Addie has?” I looked back at her, totally lost about what was happening. “Addie has thrown things at Lily?” I opened the fence and accidentally knocked over Addie’s bucket of dirt, she burst into tears and ran inside.

At this point I was trying to figure out what possibly could have been happening in the backyard with these two kids that I know are sweet and loving and know very well not to hurt other people.  As I walked across their front yard, water seeping through my socks, I just wanted to make sense of what had happened.  Their front door was open and I saw the dad walk through their family room and gingerly pick Lily up from the couch, her forehead covered with a towel wrapped ice pack.  He set her down in front of me at the front door and I knelt down with William, and asked him if he had anything to say to Lily.  “Sow-wy” he mumbled as he buried his face in my hair.

I looked at Lily, put my hand on her arm and assured her that it was not okay in our house to throw things, and certainly not okay to hurt people.  She nodded and listened nicely.  I let her know that William is still learning about throwing and certain things about how to behave, but that I knew that he would never try to hurt anyone, but that I was very sorry that she had been hurt, whether it was on purpose or not.  I told Lily, and her parents, that I had no idea that anything had happened with Addie, that I couldn’t believe that she ever would have tried to hurt anyone, especially her friend, and that I would talk to her about it.  They all listened, hovering around the front door.  There were mumbles that whatever had happened with Addie had been an accident.  Things had calmed down at this point, they were no longer pacing or looking at me like I was raising homicidal maniacs.

I asked Lily if she was okay, she said yes.  I told her parents that if they needed anything to please let me know and that I would handle things on our side of the fence.

William and I walked back to our backyard, he listened the whole way about not throwing things, about what happens when rocks hit people.  I was feeling pretty fired up as we entered Addie’s room.  Chris was already in there talking things out with Addie, she was red faced and crying on her bed.  “We need to have a family talk.” I announced as I walked in the room, setting William down and crossing my arms over my chest.  “They said you have thrown things at Lily and hit her twice.” I said, looking at my little girl, tears still on her cheeks.

“Addie told me that she has never hit Lily with anything.  She’s telling the truth.” Chris’ voice, his confidence in our daughter’s word, snapped me back to where I needed to be.  I looked at her again.  My girl.  The one who would never hurt someone on purpose.  “Is there anything that has happened that Lily has gotten hit with something, even accidentally?” She looked me in the eye as I asked her the question.

“We’ve played catch before Mommy, with that little pink bubble thing.  But it never hit her.” The pink bubble thing is about the size of my pinkie.  “I’ve never seen anything hit her, Mom.  I promise.”  She was absolutely telling the truth.

Chris and I told her that we believed her, that we trust her, and that she can always come to us no matter what.  As we were about to head upstairs, she stopped us.

“William was just throwing the rock over the fence, he wasn’t trying to hit Lily.”  We told her that we figured that was what happened, and thanked her for telling us.  “He said he threw it, but I don’t think he understands.”  Our girl, looking out for her little brother.

Upstairs, it hit me, the defensiveness.  The need to protect my babies and let those people know that what they had said about my kids was not true.  I wanted to go over there and stop them from thinking that my kids are troublemakers, or that their daughter isn’t safe playing with them.  I wanted to tell them that they were wrong.  That Lily hadn’t told the truth, that Addie had never thrown things at her and that William was just throwing the rock over the fence.  I wanted them to look me in the eye and understand, my kids, my kids are not to be spoken about like this.

Chris talked me down, of course, that’s what he does.  He promised me that if he ever sees the dad outside he would work it into the conversation.  He would say something.  It would have to be enough, my going over there was not going to solve anything.  I had said my piece, I had apologized and said it would be taken care of.  And it was.  I spoke to my kids, I believed what they said, it was done.

But even now, I can’t quiet the mama bear growling inside me.  When Addie said she wanted me to go over there and tell them that she hadn’t hit Lily, I told her I couldn’t do that, but that she could.  I told her that if she saw them outside she could politely, calmly, assure them that playing catch with Lily was the only thing that had ever happened and she had never seen her get hit, anywhere, at all.  That she wouldn’t throw something at anyone.

I told Addie that just as she should stand up for herself with other kids, she can stand up for herself with adults as well.

And I know that the truth lies somewhere in the middle, on the fence between their house and ours.  I know that Lily didn’t lie, but neither did Addie.  When I step back and put myself in their shoes, with the information they had,  I can understand why they reacted the way they did.  We all want to protect our kids.  But this changes things, for me.  I will do what I can to protect them, to guide them, to teach them that sometimes they will need to stand up for themselves and know that they can tell their truth.  They can protect their integrity.

And I will try to keep mama bear inside, no matter how loud she growls.  Because there will be times that I won’t be right there, and my kids will need to know what to do.  They will need to know that their voice matters.  And my kids’ voices will be heard.

It was awkward.  Maybe.  It could have just happened so fast that neither of us had a chance to react, which is most likely.  That’s what it was for me.  But that split second when our eyes met and I know she saw me, if she had reacted like she was happy to see me I would have said hi and smiled and told her how nice it was to see her.  But I faltered because in that split second, I was a stranger.

It is really okay, we don’t have to do all that anymore, we were roommates a lifetime ago and have become adults without being in one another’s lives.  But I would be lying if I said the past didn’t rush back just by glancing at her for that second as she passed, laughing and happy with her group of friends.

It’s possible that she went inside and didn’t say a word, just went about her girls’ night and seeing me didn’t phase her.  But I wondered if she went inside and declared that she just saw her old roommate, what a hassle it was living with me.  I wondered if she looks back on our time together and remembers that we were best friends, or that I didn’t scrub the kitchen floor like she did.

I have a belief that adults should not expect certain things from kids.  I often tell people who are seeking help with their children that kids are not hardwired knowing how to behave or react.  They will react by instinct until we take the time to teach them what we want them to know.  I value communication and calm rationality when I have interactions with other people, so I take the time to teach my kids the tools they need to communicate clearly.  I help them learn how to breathe and think so they can stay calm rather than react emotionally and act out.  They are calm and peaceful because Chris and I have made it a priority to teach the kids what we think is the most effective way to react.

William is three years old.  Sometimes he gets frustrated when things don’t go the way he expects.  He starts crying, sometimes yelling and every once in a while flails his little body in anger.  From the outside he may look like a naughty kid throwing a fit.  I can imagine people walking by slowly, eyeing us as I try to hug him and calm him down.  She can’t control him, they might think.  He must have behavioral problems, they might say to their companions.  But he is a smart, sweet three year old who has a slew of emotions that he hasn’t learned how to master yet.  If I were to TELL him to stop throwing a fit, how would he know what to do?  If I stood above him and directed him to calm down and stop crying, it would just exascerbate the situation because not only would he be upset, but he would feel frustrated and sad because he was disappointing me.

But when I kneel on his level and explain to him that I know he is upset and I am going to help him calm down, he knows I am there to help.  I talk him through exactly what he needs to do to calm his little body down so he can hear me.  Then we can talk about what is happening.  Yelling at him would only scare him.  Ignoring him would make him feel helpless and unimportant.  Reacting calmly and diffusing the situation with words not only teaches him the tools to use next time he is upset, but it shows him that this is how I react TO him, that I am not only asking him to do it, but I do it too.

If I put a canvas in front of you and told you to paint this, could you do it?  You have paintbrushes, a surface to paint on and all the colors you could need.  Do it. Now.

Would you feel frustrated?  Maybe feel the tears gathering behind your eyes?  Would you worry that I think you are stupid? I am standing there. looking at you, expecting you to paint these trees.  I can do it, WHY CAN’T YOU?

It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to be able to paint this just because I can.  You would need training and time to learn the proper techniques.  Why would you ever expect your child to do it with something as complicated as emotions?

What does this have to do with running into my roommate?  Well, I was not easy to live with.  I never did anything to intentionally harm anyone, I always thought of other people’s feelings.  I put my clothes away and liked our apartment to be picked up and tidy.  But I did not clean well, I did not buy laundry detergent.  I never got on my hands and knees and scrub the kitchen floor.  I wasn’t a jerk, I wasn’t thoughtless, I just wasn’t hardwired to do those things.  I had never done them before.  I was a kid that went from living at home where I didn’t take care of those things to living in a dorm where I didn’t have to do them.  So it drove her crazy that I didn’t know how to do, or when to do the things she had already been taught.  Rather than talk to me and teach me what she needed from me, frustrations mounted and our friendship unraveled with painful rumors being spread and feelings being hurt.  I was unaware.  I was naive.

Looking back as an adult and parent, I can give my teenage self the grace of understanding.  I can extend that same grace to her, knowing that the things she did were born of youth and immaturity as well.  We were not hardwired, we learned through one another how not to do things.  I wonder if she walked into that restaurant catching a glimpse of an adult woman that she used to know as a young girl.  I wonder if she is able to look back as a mother and see two kids who were playing at being capable of living on their own.

It doesn’t really matter either way.  Because the years have passed (and passed) and those girls who lived in that apartment don’t exist anymore.  But this girl knows that no one will do what you expect of them unless you make your needs very, very clear.  I have, and will continue to teach my children that unless you use your voice, no one will know what you want.  If someone wrongs you, speak up.  If someone overlooks you, make yourself heard.  Never expect someone to give you what you need unless you tell them exactly how you want that need fulfilled.

If we ever pass each other again, I will make sure to raise my hand in greeting and take a moment to say hello.  Because no matter what happened in the past, I know who I am now, I am confident and kind.