I spent the morning doing the math. In sum, i spend about 80% of my time wishing I weren’t wishing I were dead. As you can imagine, one doesn’t get much concrete proof of productivity from such endeavors, despite the long hours and dedicated vision.
It just doesn’t translate. It’s hard to sell at cocktail parties. It’s easy to feel invisible.
On a Monday morning when everybody woke up crying, when I’m loading the boys into back into the car after a 1.5-hour driving nap and a trip to Aldi, in the middle of a scorching grocery parking lot on a 90º day, and a lady twice my age offers to take my shopping cart back, and I decline, since I haven’t even been able to unload the bags out yet (babies first, with air conditioning, always), and she says “Don’t worry, I’ll wait,” and she means it.
And when I say “thank you so much, that’s so kind of you to do,” and she says, “You’re doing such a great job. I’m just amazed you’re getting out to the grocery store. It’s the hardest job in the world. You do what you have to do, right? You’re such a good mom.”
That’s when I cry. Instant, ugly cry. And throw two giant bags of groceries in the back of the van, and push my cart into hers. She wouldn’t even keep my quarter. She gave me a hug.
After I blew my nose, and changed the other baby’s diaper, and put him in the carseat, and looked up to thank her again, she and her big white SUV were gone.
She might be a grandma in a handicap parking space, but man, she travels light and fast.
This is not the first time a random-act-of-kindness-lady has made me cry in a parking lot.
Not even the first time in the last 6 months.
On the one hand, that’s just fucking mortifying. But on the other hand, I got a grandma hug out of the deal, and something else to think about for a while.
Moms are legion, and they are awesome. I can’t wait to get my shit together enough to represent.
concrete proof of productivity