Tuesday, January 17, 2012

I Feel Sorry for You

I push the cart through the layers of slush and remind four tiny feet to stay close to me.  We weave through the aisles grabbing markers and a new sippy cups.  Requests to 'see the fishies' are answered with promises of 'if you are obedient'.  Halfway through the aisle with cleaning products surrounding me I hear the fateful admission, "Mom, I need to go to the bathroom."

Inwardly I groan.  I would die a happy person if I never had to take another potty break in a Wal-mart bathroom.  I quickly grab whatever bathroom cleaner I can quickly chuck into my cart and make a bee-line for the bathroom because the only thing worse than a wal-mart potty break is a department store accident and I don't think my psyche could handle the latter.

To protests of, "But mom, it's the girls' room" we  wind our way into the ladies' rooms and I giggle as I remind the four year-old to wipe up his mess and the six year-old to flush.  I'm standing, mucky boots on the grungy tile guarding our cart and the other two children perched inside it thankful that we made it to the bathroom on time.  As my mind begins to tick off the remaining items on my list a woman comes out of the stall, washes her hands and turns to me.  I smile, but it only takes a moment for me to recognize that her question will be the one that I hear at least once every time I venture into public,

"Are they all yours?" she inquires in the kind of voice I would scold my children for using.  

My usual sarcasm and wit will be lost on this woman so I answer truthfully.  "Yes, they are." I say proudly.  Her answer is one that has yet to grace my ears,

"I feel sorry for you.  I had four and it was horrible."

My jaw drops open and I am silenced.  I immediately look to my children hoping that they did not hear this woman's comment.  Thankfully foamy soap in a germ-infested bathroom is a great distraction and they both continue to play, indifferent to this woman's words and I watch her back as she ambles out of the bathroom.

No ma'am, I feel sorry for you.  There are days when my kids drive me nuts.  Just tonight I had to put a child to bed half an hour early because they just couldn't listen.  I spent the next half our quieting him down and {trying to} calmly put him back to bed without losing my cool.  My oldest daughter demands my full attention.  When we read together at night she can't just be near me--she has to be ON me, literally.  My third-born is one of "those" children--you know, the one you see coming and you inwardly groan; but one day that determination and that confidence is going to do some great things.  My youngest is sweeter than honey and more smiley than a sticker from a Wal-mart greeter.  Sure, I don't sleep a lot.  I can't remember the last time I took a shower without a little person sticking their head in on me or asking me for something that "couldn't" wait the 90 seconds until I jumped out of the shower. It is hard to raise children.  I won't pretend that it isn't.

But, sorry for me?

I don't think so.  I have been given four...count them four eternal souls.  They are on loan to me for a short, short time to steward, and guide, and teach and snuggle.  Roll that one around in your head for a moment, an eternal soul to nurture, kiss, snuggle, love, and wrestle with....

I don't think it gets much better than this.

Today I'm linking up with these lovely ladies
Joy from Joy in this Journey

Life: Unmasked


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...