I hate feeling like a nuisance.
My brain regularly tells me that I am a nuisance to people, and I go out of my way to not actually be one.
Yesterday, I had to be a nuisance.
Sunshine is doing really well at school. She loves going and she is learning so much already. She has been able to identify letters for a couple of years, but her ability to recognize letter sounds has exploded in the last month. Her teacher is going awesome things with her already.
She is a little overwhelmed by the long days. Sunshine’s only experience outside of our home were 2.5 hour days of preschool, three days a week, the year she was three. We allowed her a mental health day on Friday to reset and recharge. Kids need mental health days too.
But Sunshine has been flustered by one thing. She has not been permitted to take out a library book since the very first day that they visited the library.
Sunshine was really excited about library class. I took her to the public library for the first time when she was barely three and it became a regular event for us that summer.
When she climbed into her carseat at the end of that school day, she told me all about library. They got a tour, she picked a book, and she brought it home.
“I picked the Grinch, but they must’ve known I already have it, so they gave me a cat book instead. I like cats too.”
That’s wonderful, baby. You love cats! And you don’t need the Grinch book. We already have it.
That night, I read her library book with her. In it, a cat named Chester goes to the library and learns how to properly care for the books. I found it an apt choice for her first book from her school’s library.
After reading the book, I told Sunshine to put it in her backpack so that it was ready for the next day she had library class.
I saw that book in her bag every morning when I put her lunch into it and every afternoon when I checked her take-home folder. That was the case until library day rolled around again.
Then the book disappeared, but Sunshine did not have a new book.
Didn’t you want a new book today?
“They wouldn’t let me get a new book because I didn’t bring back my first one. It must’ve been lost.”
Did you take it out of your backpack sometime today?
“I gave it to the aide. She must’ve lost it. I couldn’t get a book.”
Sunshine’s disappointment was evident. She loves books. She loves libraries. And I know she could not have loved watching her new friends select books when she could not.
I told her that I was sure it would be figured out before next library day. Maybe the aide set it in the wrong pile. She had plenty of books at home.
I try to project a calm outlook about these sorts of things. I do not want to overreact, especially in front of Sunshine or her brothers.
It’ll be fine, baby. They’ll figure it out.
But on the next library day, Sunshine still did not come home with a book. This is when I talked to Saint Daddy about it.
It doesn’t make any sense, I said. She carried that book back and forth to school for two weeks. What do they mean that she never returned it?
“I’ll email her teacher.”
Here is where my nuisance idea comes in. Teachers are busy. I know how busy they are. They have hundreds of things to deal with every day. They make countless decisions. They are responsible for so much every single moment of their day. There is so much to think about. Their jobs are difficult.
The last thing I would want to do is give Sunshine’s teacher one more thing to think about.
But on the same token, Sunshine did return her book. She did not deserve to be punished for not doing so.
Sunshine’s teacher said that she had borrowed How the Grinch Stole Christmas and never returned it.
I picked Sunshine up from school a few days later, and her teacher met me in the office to discuss the case of the missing library book.
I told her that Sunshine had mentioned thinking she had borrowed “the Grinch,” but that the school must have known she already owned it and sent her home with another book instead. She did not bring home “the Grinch.”
Her teacher offered to email all of the parents to see if maybe their child accidentally brought home Sunshine’s book.
A week passed.
The librarian sent an email to Saint Daddy and me. Sunshine owes this book.
Saint Daddy said I would explain what I believed happened.
I became a little flustered. I felt like a nuisance. It is one book. Should I just offer to pay for it so Sunshine can get books again? Is that the right thing to do? But what if another kid does have Sunshine’s book? Can it be located?
I told the story, a little more briefly than I did above. I hit send.
My cheeks flushed.
I know this probably seems like such a small thing to become so agitated over. I sent that email at the end of my lunch hour, and when I went to my next meeting, someone asked me if I was having a bad day.
No. Not really. I was just nervous. What if I was accused of lying? What if what I said made no sense? What if it does not help? What if Sunshine never takes home another library book from school again? What if the mistakes of adults result in punishing my child?
I needed closure for that event.
With anxiety, even small things can incite large responses. And the best way for my responses to end quickly is closure. The wait for that closure is filled with a million what-ifs. Waiting means my brain begins to wander. My waiting brain has too much of an opportunity to destroy me.
I needed a response. I needed it quickly. I needed Saint Daddy to say something to me.
By the end of my meeting, the librarian let me know that the book Sunshine brought home was on the shelf. She said she knew who checked it out and that she would check with his family to see if they had Sunshine’s book. However, she was clearing Sunshine’s account. Sunshine would definitely be coming home with a book on her next library day.
Even now, writing this, more than twenty-four hours after it happened, I am realizing how minor this whole event was. It was a non-event. Emailing about this issue was entirely appropriate.
I know that.
However, anxiety often means putting more stock into an event than it deserves. Anxiety means that I think other people think about me in the same obsessive way I think about myself or in the exact opposite way.
Saint Daddy recently told me that I sometimes operate in extremes.
That is true. I do.
That is my anxiety. That is what anxiety does for me.
I do not imagine that it works exactly the same way for everyone, but that is how anxiety affects me.
I have begun working on my awareness of that. I am trying to find my equilibrium. I am trying to remind myself that sending an email is not that big of a deal. Not in the grand scheme of things.
I am glad that Saint Daddy and I solved the case of the Missing library book.
Sunshine deserves a library day. It was worth being a little bit of a nuisance to do that for her.