When Her Tears Took Me Back to Mine.

My girl was in tears.

Kilograms to grams. Kilometres to metres. Litres to millilitres.
In her maths test, these conversions turned into a monster.

She’s sharp in maths-that one she got from me (not bragging).
But this time, the results came in below expectations. She was inconsolable.

On my end of the phone, I listened to my baby shed tears.
And I had to remind her sometimes an A can look like a D.

Don’t get me wrong, I was disappointed by the result too.
But first, we needed to go through the emotions.

My questions started spilling:

• Why the big drop?

• Don’t you like the teacher?

• Did the leg injury, which happened just a week before end-term exams, affect your concentration?

• Am I too busy to support you with schoolwork?

• Are you going to school so early that by class time you’re already tired from beating stories with your friends?

I know her potential.
So I let her cry, assuring her I wouldn’t hang up, that I was on the other end.
She needed to cry. She needed to grieve her failure.

I told her my own failure story.

Back in the early ’90s, I went for an interview to be admitted to a top-performing boarding school.
Out of 90 kids they admitted...my name wasn’t on the list.

Oh, how I cried all the way home. I was only seven, but I hated that failure feeling.
Bobo, my big sister, had passed so well-position 8 out of 90.
Mum torn between being happy for Bobo and consoling her hysterical younger one.

And you know what she did? She just held me and let me cry.
She knew her child needed to feel the pain.

Meanwhile, I was caught between feeling stupid, feeling like I hadn’t done enough, feeling like I’d disappointed my parents...and fearing I’d never have a comeback.
Out of 90-who fails that badly?😏

So I let my girl break down.
It didn’t erase my disappointment, but I knew those tears meant she valued her success journey.
And I was behind that.

After 44 minutes on the call, 30 of them just tears,
I understood my child better. She’s very competitive.

My final words to her were:
“Your tears are valid. They mean growth. They mean accountability to yourself. Keep competing, even if it’s just against yourself. We have another chance next term.”

I don’t know if it’s easier or harder to parent a child so much like me.
Easier because I understand her so well.
Harder because I get to rewalk my childhood journey in her steps.

Anyway..I’ll wait for grandma’s “noise” about how I made her granddaughter cry all afternoon.

Either way...
Sometimes “Breathe in and out” is the only answer a mum can give to a disappointed child’s cry.