Resign Yourself: You're Through

I've been musing about emotions lately, or rather, how when we are four years old, we're too young to appreciate how simple they are. You get mad--you yell a lot and stomp your feet. You get happy--you laugh and smile and clap your hands. You get sad--you cry, and then sometimes you get the fruit leather after all. Piece of cake. (Mmmm, cake. Simple, see?)

I got to thinking about the more complicated feelings because Mary was nice enough to watch Jarrah today while I taught my dance class at the preschool. Turns out Jarrah has an ear infection, but she's been on antibiotics for 24 hours, so Mary was brave. Big hugs, Mary! (See? We've got some emotions going on right there.) When I met them at the mall for the hand-off, Mary whispered that Joy got jealous today, and told her mommy she wanted her all to herself. They worked it out, but I wondered aloud if Jarrah even knows what jealousy is yet. I've never seen her express anything of that kind, unless it was over fruit leather, and that doesn't really apply, in my book.

As I was driving home, I glanced back at her in the rear view mirror a few times, wondering if she would fall asleep. She's been pretty wiped out the past week; now we know why. Mostly, I saw her apply and reapply the Cotton Candy Lip Smacker that generous Mary bought her at Target. I wondered if there was a care in her head.

I started thinking about my class today, and how the theme was Feelings. Dancing our feelings, to be more specific. I started out by demonstrating some movements that I asked them to interpret for me with the question "How am I feeling?" They all screamed "sad!" when I was looking for "shy," and "mad!" when I was looking for "frustrated." The most basic of whatever. When I tried to do "embarrassed," I looked back at five shining faces with no comprehension whatsoever. I understand that, at their age, they may have experienced some mild embarrassment already, but I don't think they know what it might look like, since they weren't looking at themselves at the time. Either that or I do terrible impressions.

Later, looking at Jarrah, I wondered how much she gets embarrassed. How often she feels sad in the adult way, a low-belly ache with a shivery sensation up the spine that comes and goes in waves for days or weeks or months. The heavy feet and heavier heart. I'll bet she hasn't had to do that yet. I fervently hope not. Or felt so jealous she could spit. Flew into a rage that made her want to say something really, really stupid (when she's mad at us, the furthest she ventures is "You're not my best friend!") And forget lust, gluttony, sloth, your basic evils. I'm not sure I could even explain those. I guess that's the point. No one ever explains them. You get older and you start having more feelings, and they're messy and horrible or horribly wonderful because they're a tasteful (or nauseating) melange of several feelings at once, and then you are standing there--reeling--thinking "What the hell is happening to me?" All that hideous reflection and analysis. Jarrah doesn't analyze stuff. She quickly, incisively, assesses whether the situation is an opportunity to either receive or be deprived of fruit leather, and reacts accordingly. Sad, mad and happy pretty much cover it.

And damn, if that doesn't bring up all kinds of messy feelings in me. Awe. Delight. Protectiveness. Tenderness. Fear (for when the time comes--and it will come--that things aren't so simple.) And jealousy. Yes, jealousy, because there was no doubt a time when emotions were just as simple for me, and I don't have the pleasure of remembering it.