We go to the Ice Palace

Today, a friend's son had a birthday party, and we went. Maia had been looking forward to it. When she made a birthday card for the boy, her first line was, "Thank you for enviting me to your party." (Her spelling.)

She had asked if I would go, and I said that I would because the party was going to be held at the Ice Palace, and I remembered how difficult it had been for her to get out on the ice when we were in Seattle over Christmas.

Maia loves the idea of things like parties, but the reality is a different story.

The children were a year older than she, and she didn't know them. But that just made what is already a difficult situation for her worse.

At the ice rink, Maia initially wouldn't budge from the non-rink side of the gate. I was out on the ice and would cruise her at the gate, trying to cajole her to go out with me.

"Remember, Seattle?" I said. "You had fun when you went out. Just one time," Maia.

But she wouldn't budge.

Finally, Kristina told me she was going to go get skate. Maia had told her that she would go with her.

"Mommy, not you," Maia said to me.

Maia finally got onto the ice while Kristina was shoeing up, but she wouldn't skate with me.

"No," she said, holding onto the rail at the side.

"Okay," I said. "Just pick up your feet, one at a time," I said to her, "like walking."

But she wouldn't go.

Many of the children who were new to skating (and many who weren't) were using these little trapezoidal sort of structures made of thin pipe that the ice rink had made available. You sort of stood in them and pushed them along--almost like the walkers that people who have had strokes use.

I got one for her, finally, but Maia wouldn't take it.

"Try," I said to her, but she wouldn't leave the outside railing.

I was at a loss as to what to do. Her unwillingness to try things gets me frustrated sometimes, as here, when I know that if she just tried once, she would enjoy herself and learn from the experience.

Finally, Kristina came onto the ice. Kristina can't skate. I don't skate very well either, but I was an avid roller skater decades ago, and can make my way around a little.

We came up on Maia's perch about a third of the way along the railing. Kristina put her hand out to Maia, and Maia started to take it, but then she gestured at me. I was on Kristina's other side, holding her hand, and Maia evidently didn't want me to be part of the group.

"Fine," I said and took off. I was angry now, as I often get eventually in situations like this.

When I came back around to them again, I said good-bye to them and told Kristina that I would wait outside. "This isn't fun for me," I said.

I took off the skates and went outside.

I knew that I was doing the wrong side. "I hope you thanked them," I heard a father say to his daughter. How was Maia to learn the etiquette of parties if I didn't practice it?

I reminded myself not to take things from her personally--though that's easy to say but hard to do--and went back inside. I saw that Kristina and Maia were about to debark the rink. The staff put birthday parties through the place on two hour schedules, and this seating had run out of time. We climbed upstairs together for the birthday cake part of the party. The upstairs area is where the birthday party groups are seated.

Maia cruised me upstairs. I could see that she wanted to test my mood.

"Are you happy?" she asked. The question is code for, "Are you angry at me?"

"Well, I'm not happy, Sweetie. I'm frustrated. I came here just to go skating with me, but you wouldn't go around with me even one time. Do you know why you do things like that?"

"No," she said.

"Well, you think about it, Sweetie. Think about why you wouldn't go." As it turned out later, she had a reason.

We drifted around the cake table, and she bobbed by me again.

"I would go now," she said.

I could see that she was about to cry, and she did cry a little.

"It's okay. We'll go another time. We're all getting ready to leave now."

I hugged her, she hugged me back, and she brushed the tears away.

I felt so bad for her then. To have to deal with all of her conflicted emotions about participation in things, and the deep and unknown connections that those things have to her experience in the orphanage, and then to be rebuffed by those who have taken her life into hers--well, it's a lot to ask of a six year old.

We took some photos in a little kiosk on the way out--a series of four photos, although I was only in 3 of them. They were good photos. They showed the relief that we were all feeling.

I went back to work later on.

I saw that she had tried to call me when I got to my desk, so I called back.

She explained that she hadn't wanted to go skating with me because, "People would see us," and that she had just wanted us to make our separate ways around the rink. "I'm really sorry you didn't understand why I didn't want to go," she said. "I didn't want you to feel bad," she said. "But I was honest," she said.

"Yes, you were honest, Sweetie. And that's a good thing."

"Yes," she said.

"And if you don't want to skate with me, that's okay."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Me, too," I said.

Someone once described me as flawed. I think that's probably a good assessment. I worry about what these little dramas are doing to her.

At least we can talk about things now.

John, Sunday, February 22, 2009