Yesterday Princess Tuesday cried after knocking her hip at the stairs.

She started wailing as usual, she’s never one to shy away from a loud cry.

I knew she hurt herself because she kept rubbing her hips. So I comfort her and hugged her tightly.

She continued crying while holding me really tight.

It dawned upon me that I never get a hug when I cry, many times I get reprimanded for being weak, cry baby, and just not strong enough. My memory of my mom hugging me was only when she had an argument with dad when I was 6, she was sobbing. Mom has told me recently that I was a cry baby and so to stop me from crying she would always bring up the police getting me or her if I continues, and as I grew up, needless to say it was just “Get a grip. Crying doesn’t get you anything.

Dad hugs me a lot, but never when I’m emotionally vulnerable. To be fair, he never around when I was hurt, and eventually we drifted apart emotionally. Our hugs are more playful than wholesome.

As I hugged Princess Tuesday, a part of me felt like I was hugging my 4 year old self.

I wasn’t weak, I wasn’t a crybaby. I just needed love, but my mom thought it was strength that I needed. I needed warmth, she thought I needed grit. Our boomer parents grew up in a dog eat dog world, where grit was survival, so I understand how that happened.

I hope my children will grow up knowing that my arms are always theirs to stay in.