Another dip on the rollercoaster

Last night I was too upset to write. Things were just too much for me to sit at the laptop and tippy tappy away trying to get things off my chest. I tend to, when I'm in that mood, sleep on it. Try to sort things out in my head, but this morning I'm in the same boat as I was when I went to bed.

Littley is a bright, sparky, bonnie lass who can sing and dance and is a star at pe and games and is a poplular little girl. Tall, very slim, blond and amazing blue eyes (all three of my girlies have amazing blue eyes). She puts on a happy smiley face and just makes on that "all's well" with her.

Yesterday morning there was a clump of hair. She showed me this, and I just thought it was a tat from brushing her hair. Last night, the way her hair way laying it was obvious to see it hadn't been a tat. There was a bald bit. Devastation. I sat her down and had a chat with her. She's worrying - of course she is, but she's not telling me that she's worrying worrying. She's worried about daddy (damn that male nurse that told our children that daddy would be going into an old people's home because of him being poorly), she's upset that biggey and middley can take their frustrations out on her and she's having problems at school with a little girl who's calling her fat. Seriously, there is not a pick of fat on this girl. She would blow over in a gust of wind. I am fat, she is not. This little girl is pushing her, kicking her, calling her names, being sneaky and devious and making her life hell. She'd mentioned that she was being mean to her, and I thought that we had dealt with it - don't play with her, ignore her, she's just jealous, that kind of thing. It hasn't sorted it though, and she hasn't let on because she thinks I have enough to deal with. Poor little might. Crap mum.

I had honestly thought that this morning there would be no hair on her pillow. I was wrong. Another clump laying there when she got up. She's now worried that all of her hair is going to fall out. More worry. She's nine years old for God's sake. Her plate isn't big enough to deal with anymore. "What happens if it all falls out mummy?" she asked. "Sweetheart, I don't think that will happen, but even if it did - if anyone could rock that look it would be you". How do you put a positive slant on something so awful. I would be devastated if it was me, so how can she not be?

I'm waiting on a phonecall from the school because whilst I can try, and I say try to keep things on an even kilter at home, school should be somewhere where she can go and be "normal" without worrying about daddy getting cross or doing something wrong. She should be going and enjoying it, not worrying about one little girl who is going to make her life miserable - she has enough of that at home. I've also made an appointment at the doctor's. We can't be seen until next Wednesday but she has sports day on Monday and a school trip on Tuesday so Wednesday it is.

Why do children have to be so cruel? I know they're children. I know that they don't know what's going on behind closed doors. I know that they don't realise what they're saying and doing can cause such upset and have knock on effects, but seriously. I've brought my children up to not be cruel. I've brought them up with "don't judge a book by it's cover", just because someone is smiling doesn't mean they're happy. That words can be cruel. A crumpled piece of paper when flattened out still shows the lines of the crumpling.