Amichai and I travelled to the states for the Passover holiday. There were many highlights of the trip. Amichai is generally treated like a rock star by my family. He is showered with gifts, his cousins mob him, his aunts and uncles compete for his attention, and my parents are simply thrilled. He relishes every minute. But there was one moment that has stood out for me from this trip – when Amichai slipped down the stairs. Bear with me.

We were at my sister’s house and Amichai called me into the living room to help fix one of his lego-men that had come apart. Since I’m Amichai’s trusted associate (I started using this term after I saw this amazingly accurate commerical a few years ago) and he knows I will place it back together, he had better things to do than wait around – so he ran off with to play with my nine-year-old nephew. I guess Amichai wanted something from upstairs, and he started up the staircase. I should point out the staircase is actually quite steep, and the steps themselves are big. Nonetheless, Amichai had really managed his way and up and down masterfully so I wasn’t worried. Two points for PT!

The next thing I knew I saw Amichai slipping down the last three stairs and bumping his head.

You know that split second of silence after kids fall – as if they are deciding am I hurt or am I really ok? Amichai decided on hurt. I jumped up and ran over. Tears, screams – the works. I picked him up and took him to the couch. My bother in law followed us to the sofa and my sister was already bringing the ice pack. My parents came with the tissues. Iroinically, it was me who ended up needing the kleenex.

Amichai was ok, I knew he was ok. He fell – not the first time, won’t be the last. There was no blood, there was no cut, there was no bump. I had picked him up and comforted him hundreds of times before. I knew the routine. But suddenly, I felt tears running down my own cheeks. What?

My father came over. You know he’s ok, right? Ya I know Dad – thanks. You know you can’t fall apart over this, right? Ya I know Dad – thanks. You know Amichai must see that you’re ok, right? Ya I know Dad – thanks.  But the tears kept coming. I hated feeling like I was failing as a parent in front of my parents. Mom and Dad – if you figured out how to “open the internet” and are reading this, these are my projections, not yours so don’t feel bad…read on, I figured it out.

To be clear, my Dad never ever discouraged me from crying as a child, but my father is nothing if not logical. Have you ever heard an adult telling a small child – It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness. I have been hearing this since I was four. So, growing up it was important for my Dad to discern for my sisters and I what really warrants tears. Crying because you can’t figure out where the peice goes in the puzzle does not warrant tears. Crying because your sister bit you does in fact warrant tears…my younger sister I swear had fangs, she bit through winter jackets. (Note: She got a hold of her biting problem and turned out to be a fantastic sister and friend.) What my father ultimately tried to teach us was that there are certainly good and valid reasons to cry but don’t lose it over the small, insignificant things – that simply does not make logical sense. Just light the candle.

I think when my father saw me crying after Amichai fell, he logically couldn’t understand my tears. Amichai was fine. He stopped crying within minutes and was already eating an ice pop and playing with his cousins. Why was I still crying? To be honest, I couldn’t understand the logic either. Totally out of character for me – to just lose it over something that I had dealt with thousands of times before? The apple does not fall far from the tree, and I too am nothing if not logical. I needed to unpack the incident and get to the reason behind the tears.

I replayed the events. I replayed hearing the thump and jumping up – no tears from me yet. I replayed picking him up and taking him to the couch – still no tears. I replayed asking Amichai what hurts and telling him its ok – still no tears. I replayed my brother-in-law coming into the room…my sister bringing the ice pack…that’s it. That’s when the tears started…and suddenly I understood why I was crying.

I’m a single mom. This is actually the first time I’m writing these words. Being a single mom was not something I ever envisioned for myself, nor wanted. But I was in a bad marriage. Very bad. I tried to make it work. I tried and I tried and I tried because quitting meant failing. Stay in the game no matter what, screw the pain. But I was losing. I was losing myself each day, and it just became too much, too dark. I had to confront my own fears and definitions of divorce. I had to draw on the lessons Amichai taught me about changing perceptions. I realized that true failure would be staying. I would be failing myself and Amichai if I stayed. Staying actually meant quitting in this case. I learned that divorce can be a blessing and I am thankful for the courage I was granted to get up and leave. So today, I am not complaining that I am a single mother – I am grateful and as Sheryl Sandberg says, I’m trying to “kick the sh*t out of Option B“- but I can still acknowledge the challenges it presents.

Without a doubt, I have an insanely amazing network of friends and family who constantly extend their support and help on every level – it is my own lacking that I do not always take them up on their offers. I can never escape the feeling that it always has to be me. I have to be strong. I cannot bend, I cannot break. If Amichai falls, or gets upset, or gets frustrated, or is just having a bad day – it is my responsibility to be the pillar he leans on even if the walls around me are crumbling themselves. I have enough self-awareness to recognize that maybe – just maybe – I set impossibly high standards no human being can attain…I should let myself off the hook once in a while…I’m working on it.

In that moment when Amichai fell, when my brother in law came rushing in and my sister had the ice pack ready to go and my parents had the tissues – it suddenly just wasn’t me. I had support and help in real time. I didn’t have to ask – it was just there. And it was so comforting… and maybe Amichai doesn’t need to see the pillar of strength all the time. Maybe he can and should see that I can be vulnerable, and I also need a little help. Maybe he should see that even the tiniest of gestures – like bringing an ice pack -provides such great assistance, a moment of relief where I could just breathe. So, I breathed – and the tears of gratitude came rolling down.

Seems logical to me.