I have no idea why I found myself on myspace today…you know, where I haven’t done ANYTHING in over 3 years…hehe…but I did. And as I glanced through the nothingness that has happened there in those three years…I found an old blog post. I blogged there…hmm. Five times? But this one…priceless.
Sometimes in the midst of chaos, you have to be reminded that life is good. Sometimes, in the midst of my chaos, I have to look back and remember that even in the chaos, life has always been good. Even when not ALL of it was good.
This entry will be random. It happened more than 5 years ago…which boggles my mind…but here it is. I hope you giggle. It’s completely true. And…not much has really changed, even though the participants involved are now teenagers or near-teenagers. Sigh. How did that happen??
“My friend Kendra told the most adorable story today in her blog about her son Lukas and a conversation they had. Almost any conversation that is blog-worthy must be cute, and this was no exception…I have one I have to tell you about simply because I don’t want to forget it either. Laine is just full of these stories lately, although I have been running around with sick kids (and my sick self), and have had no time to jot them down. This one is too good to keep to myself.
I stand in my kitchen one day two weeks or so ago, swiping crumbs off the table into my hand when all of a sudden, Lainie storms down the steps and runs sobbing into my arms. “Mommy!” she screams, “Reasa just said that Beth and Ruth hate me and don’t want to be my friend anymore and they never loved me and they only want to be friends with her and she’s being so, so mean! Now they can never be my friends again and I’m all alone, Mommy! I have NO ONE!!”
I stand there totally speechless.
Let me explain. Over the past few months, my children’s make-believe has become something far beyond extravagant, and has often dipped into the realm of…well, maybe frightening is a good word for it. I choose that word only because sometimes they so wholly engross themselves in their play that they can barely remember their real names when I call for them, and they have little time for anything but play in their world of make-believe. Now really, I’m not complaining. I could find them sucked into their favorite tv shows, turning into blobs of mush on the floor of the family room, and instead they choose the world of play. This is good. However, at the point where your child cries because her sister doesn’t agree that the stick she holds is The Wand of Life and is capable of magically healing the torn-off leg of her favorite doll…well, you see the issue here. Along the way in this wondrous world of make-believe, Lainie has decided she has two imaginary friends (and since their arrival, they have adopted imaginary pets, acquired imaginary jobs, taken on imaginary phone numbers, caught imaginary illnesses and ailments, cruised through imaginary vacations,…). The friends’ names are Beth and Ruth. With that said, let me now take you back to the screaming, sobbing child as she howls, “I have NO ONE!!”
I look at her dumbfounded. She sobs and continues talking about how horrible her life is and how she has no friends and now she doesn’t even have Beth and Ruth and on and on and on as I stand there with no words. I call (loudly, with feeling) for Reasa to come downstairs (amazingly, she responds, recognizing her name on the first call)(I think she knew she was dead meat already, and didn’t want to push her luck), prepared to reprimand her for being so mean to her sister, and give her the how-dare-she-talk-so-unkindly-about-her-sister’s-imaginary-friends speech when suddenly it dawns upon me: these “girls” are LAINIE’S IMAGINARY FRIENDS. Not only are they imaginary, but Lainie invented them! Reasa has absolutely no say whatsoever as to whether or not these girls like Lainie or whether or not they exist, for that matter. Reasa reaches the bottom of the steps braced for the scolding, and I turn back around to face Lainie. “Laine Morgan,” I begin, and she looks at me, shocked to see that I have not beaten her sister to within an inch of her life upon landing on the pink rug, “whose imaginary friends are Beth and Ruth?” “Mine,” she sobs. “And Laine Morgan,” I continue (oooh, the whole name, twice), “who created Beth and Ruth?” “I did,” she replies. “Then can Reasa possibly tell you that your imaginary friends don’t love you anymore? Can she decide what they say or do? And if she tries to tell you something, do you have to believe her?” “No,” Lainie says with a sniffle. “Get back upstairs and play with your sister, Laine, and stop letting her push you around!” She kind of looks at me, as if the truth is just setting in…and suddenly, she gets this grin on her face–you know, the kind that slowly spreads from ear to ear with the mouth partly open, almost in disbelief–and she dashes back upstairs (following her sister’s lead). I never heard another word about the trauma of her life, or the disappearance of Beth and Ruth that day or any other…if anything, she has played with renewed passion, and Beth and Ruth have found adventure after adventure (complete with Reasa and Lainie, of course). It totally kills me that she absolutely knows they’re imaginary and still fabricates the most amazing stories…it’s unbelievable.
I love my kids. They bring me endless…joy. Almost every day.”
And they still do. Truly. Almost every day.
All Is Grace 
#1 by romanhokie on August 2, 2012 - 10:52 pm
Myspace… I can’t say that I’ve had an account there or even been there more than about 5 times.
Anyway, I absolutely love this story. And how you owned some solid psychological (and Biblical) principles when dealing with your kiddo’s imaginary friends.
You’re a great mother to those three