Last week, I went to JoAnnes on a Tuesday night after dinner. Tyler was out of town, and I was getting supplies for a mutual activity on Wednesday and there wasn't another time I could go. It was a last-minute back up plan for the pool party we thought was getting rained out, so I didn't have a lot of time to plan or prepare.
The kids were tired and crabby. In the store, they were pretty wild and touched everything. I can't blame them - there are so many interesting things at the craft store! We did alright and got what I needed, but I was pretty frazzled at checkout.
While I was paying, the coupon I had was the wrong coupon so I was scrambling to find the right one and get my wallet out and manage TJ who kept running away and Eli was pulling on my shirt to tell me something and in the middle of this, the wretched old lady in line behind me starts talking to Eli.
But not really talking to him. To paraphrase, she told him that his shoes didn't fit right and that it would almost be better if he wasn't wearing them at all.
Then she turned to me and said, "Boy, you've got some little helpers." But not in the nice, maternal way most old ladies say it. Her tone was so condescending and snarky.
Now, a word about Eli's shoes - because of his funny feet, Eli can't wear flip flops. But he's three, and I value independence, so we've been looking for some shoes he can take on and off by himself. We've been doing slip-ons with support straps in the back. Finding a good pair that would hold up has been a pain. He got some for his birthday that fell apart within days. We finally found a pair on amazon, but the size 5-6 was too small, and the 7-9 (which we kept) is really too big. But he wears them anyway.
So, ya, they are too big, but he puts them on himself and he likes them and asks to wear them! And I am trying my best to make sure my kids are well-cared for, but also capable and independent.
I paid and ran out of the store as fast as I could.
I got the kids buckled and waited by my car to tell ther exactly what I thought about her making rude remarks to young moms about how their kids dress or act. Then she walked out and went the opposite way and I thought chasing her down and screaming would probably not help my case.
So I got in the car and cried and cried the whole drive home.
On a normal day, a rude comment about my kids does not bug me. But at a moment where I was not doing a prime parenting job, where I was by myself and short on time with crabby kids, that little jab was enough to just totally crumble me.
Why do people have to be so nasty?
Today, I had a doctor appointment with a specialist. I've had to cancel with him before, because my kids were sick. And guess what? My kids are sick today! Both of them have terrible hacking coughs and TJ has a fever. But I really just needed to get this visit done, so we went anyway.
I packed backpacks with books and toys and kept them pretty reigned in while I did all the paper work. We made it to the patient room and the kids were pretty crazy, but we survived the interview and vital-taking with the nurse.
Then the doctor came in. And while we were chatting about my medical history, TJ THREW UP. On the table/bed thing.
I thought for sure this poor doctor, and older gentlemen who is used to his patients being over 65 and far from rambunctious, would surely roll his eyes and leave the room with some passing comment about coming back when we were finished sorting this out. And I would not have blamed him at all.
Instead, he chuckled and asked how he could help. He cleared away the throw-up soiled paper from the table and talked to Eli while I washed TJ in the sink.
And I am just so grateful.
He didn't make a single face or give me a look when Eli started spitting on me or sucking on the blood-pressure tube, either. (If you have a great method for reigning in out-of-control three-year-olds who know you can't enforce a time out while also doing an in-depth medical evaluation, let me know.)
Why are people so good?
On a side note - we have tons of store trips and doctor visits where my kids sit quietly, behave themselves, and obey my every request.
We went to the bank yesterday and they sat quietly and read books for thirty minutes while I ordered Euros and deposited cash and rolled $30 of quarters. Why is it that kids who are typically well-behaved turn into little heathens at the worst possible moments? Can they sense weakness?
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