Zoomin' Past Heartbreak

There it was. That stab you in the heart feeling that you feel when you know your child's heart is breaking.

I knew that feeling was around the corner. After all, I'm the mother of three children. But I wasn't quite sure when it would hit.

But on that day - the Cub Scouts' Pinewood Derby - I learned exactly what that feeling was.

The Pinewood Derby was a long-awaited day. The Cub Scouts worked with their dads and others to make the perfect race car out of a block of wood, hoping that their car would race to win.

My oldest son, who joined the Cub Scouts this year, could not wait for the derby. He worked hard with his dad to sand down the perfect race car. He put the axles and the wheels on himself. And he spent an afternoon painting and designing his car with his grandmother. He named his car "lighting bolt" (a name I loved immediately because it is also the name of Pearl Jam's most recent album).

We couldn't wait for race day. How convenient that it actually took place at our school - the school where I teach and the children attend.

Before we knew it, the race began for our little "wolf." There were four lanes and L's race car was on the track, ready to race. With palm's sweating, we couldn't wait for the results.

As the car raced, I didn't watch the car. I watched L's face instead. And as I looked from one side of the track to my little guy's face on the other, I saw his huge smile turn into a forced, shaky smile. And then I saw him swallow, with a big lump in his throat. And slowly, the corners of his smile turned down a bit.

"Oh no," I thought. What had happened? I looked at the end of the line, and the truth lay before us. L's car had come in last place.

And there it was. That feeling that I knew I would feel one day soon, but I wasn't sure when. I felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart and then punched me in the stomach.

I didn't care what other people thought. I didn't care what L's friends thought either. All I knew was that my heart broke for this little guy that put so much effort into this car, and he had finished last. I knew what he was feeling. And it was too much for my heart to take.

Thank goodness for a second chance. L had one more run.

We waited - hopeful. But again, L's car came in last place. That same expression came over his sweet and innocent little face. Heart break city (to quote one of my very best friends and L's godmother)!

But still - while it was forced, little L sat there with a smile on his face, knowing that he had one more run left.

Soon enough, what would be the last run faced us. Off went "lightning bolt." This time, he placed 2nd. But it wasn't enough to further himself along in the race.

At that moment, I ran to the other side of the room. I crouched down on my knees and looked L in the eyes. He looked like he was about to cry. And as my eyes were about to well up with tears as I felt his disappointment, I told him that he did a wonderful job and that he should be proud of all the hard work that he put into his car. "Next year we'll make your car even better and we'll try again," I told him.

He pushed back the tears before they even formed and then smiled and said, "Mom, I know. And anyway, I placed 2nd on the last run. And I made a toy all by myself."

Now, I'm not sure who was comforting whom. But I know that because of our son's positive outlook, that feeling of pain that I had felt in my heart didn't hurt quite as badly. In fact, it felt warm and fuzzy and extremely proud.

P.S.-I have found advice in my own article:
http://www.sun-sentinel.com/features/south-florida-parenting/health/sfp-finding-strength-through-failure-20150219-story.html