Inside Out: A Peek into Mama's Brain

Go see it.  Right now.

The other day Anna asked me, "If I were an emotion, which one would I be."

I don't think she saw the Pixar film Inside Out.  (I saw it with Vinnie and absolutely loved it.  It's an incredibly powerful movie.) Maybe her friends did or maybe it's been turned into an online quiz that kids pass around. Whatever the reason, she asked, and I found myself on very dangerous ground. 

I had the choice to be honest.  Or snarky. Or sarcastic.  Or a fun combination of the three.  And there was a time not so very long ago when I could have been. We'd have laughed at my snarky sarcasm and life would roll right along.  If I had gone down that path, I'd have told her that she would be Impatience.  Or Frustration.  Or Exhaustion.  Because, honestly, that's her primary emotional footprint these days.  She's judgmental with me, short tempered with Vinnie, tired ALL. THE. TIME, and just plain Bitchy in between.

But I couldn't tell her that.  I couldn't look to my baby -- the girl who distinguished herself from her like-sized preschool peers by continuously bobbing up and down, the girl who came in 3rd in her all-boys football team "Strong Man" competition, the girl who showed me text messages from an old friend with fear in her eyes, saying she was worried about him -- I couldn't look at her and give her a label with a negative connotation. To do so may be honest, but it would also be upsetting.  As much as I strive for honesty in my parenting, there are certain truths that are temporary, and I'm hoping that Anna's moodiness is one.

Instead, I hemmed and hawed.  I pretended to ponder, looking off into the distance and tapping my chin for show, while my brain kicked into overdrive trying desperately to come up with an emotion that was both plausible and complimentary.  I thought of my bouncing pre-schooler, my football playing pre-teen, the curvy young woman who thundered down the stairs, breathing "pleasepleasepleaseplease" the day the flyer for a summer course in crime scene forensics was sent home.  And I decided,

"Excitement.  You would be Excitement."

"Really!?!" she replied, excitedly.

We laughed.  She said she really hadn't meant to use that tone.  And for a moment I had my little girl back.  She began to recall examples of her excitement, and I confirmed that her evidence had factored into my decision making. I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd done it.  I'd passed that moment's parenting test.

So I didn't see he curveball that should have been obvious.

"What would Vinnie be?"

Well, shit.

And again I'm back where I started.  Only this time, I'm praying my daughter doesn't chime in with an emotion before I can get mine out.

Vinnie is in therapy to help him manage his frustration with everyday life. He throws things. He has a history of trying to destroy or give away his favorite toys when he is angry with himself.  He's the kid whose initial reaction is negative, even when faced with something good.  "Vin, want a cookie?"  "No.  I mean,  yes."  He's sensitive.  His feeling are easily hurt.  He would rather quit than lose.  He's the boy who asks to sleep with me at 8pm every night, and the boy whose powerful nightmares find him finishing out the night in my bed more nights than not.

While I prayed Anna wouldn't chime in with Anger (Vinnie's favorite character in the movie), I thought of my friend Erin, Vinnie's biggest fan.  She often comments on his big heart.  She helps me understand that his worries and frustration come from his awareness of self and others. He has big reactions because he just *feels* more than the rest of us.

Knowing Erin would be proud of me and that my lap would soon be full of lanky, wiggling 8-year-old-boy, I said,

"Love.  Vinnie is Love."

The parenting gods must have been smiling on me that day, because Anna didn't disagree or argue. She agreed and we had one of those family sitcom moments when the kids hug the over-worked but well meaning mom and they all spend a few moments appreciating what they have.  If our life had a soundtrack it would have played while the credits rolled. But life doesn't work that way. Dinner needed to be made, TVs were turned on too loud, teenaged daughters slammed doors, and our picture perfect moment became any given evening at the Cotillo homestead.

I have plenty of parenting fails, so it's nice to be able to share a win. It felt like this was a big one.  And I hope it is.  I hope my kids know that they are more than their temporary reaction to a problem...that they are better than their worst day.  Emotions are a minefield, and I hope I can help my kids navigate them with growing confidence and forgiveness.  

Oh, I almost forgot. When I asked Anna what I would be, she thought for a while and said, "What is it called when you're happy but not like, overjoyed?  Just sort of calm. Is that content?  I think you're Content."

I will absolutely take that.