The Kindness of Strangers

We don't venture out very often in the afternoon.  On a typical day when we're not going into the city or spending a day with friends, we get out in the morning, come  home for lunch and Peanut's nap, and then hang out around the house in the afternoon.  I fell into that pattern a long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that I may have forgotten why I did it in the first place.

Boodge has a meltdown hour.  He doesn't melt down every day, but if he's going to it will usually happen between 3 and 6 in the afternoon.  You know, about the time my patience, energy and fun ideas are starting to wane and dinner still has to be made.  I like to be at home so we have the space and privacy for all that emotional turmoil, as well as the familiarity and entertainment necessary to prevent it most of the time.

But today I wanted to make sure the house and kids were clean for my mom's visit--she arrives tomorrow for 3 weeks--so I did that first.  After Peanut's nap, I announced that we had to go into town.  If our accountant is going to have a snowball's chance in hell of getting our taxes filed in time, I had to mail him our paperwork--but I didn't share that fact with the kids. Boodge, confused by the shift in routine no doubt, asked me if today was the day we were going to get Mama Cool (my mom). 

"No, tomorrow buddy. After preschool, we're going to pick her up."
"I don't want to go to preschool. I just want to go get her right away tomorrow."
"Well, she'll be up in a plane when you're in preschool, we can't get her until the plane lands. We can't make it land any earlier tomorrow."

He accepted this with some deflation. He's pretty excited about the visit and anticipation makes him jangly.  He turned his attention to some balloons we had blown up earlier. He wanted to hold two of them in one hand but one kept slipping out, and he was squawking in frustration, near tears.  After I calmed a few of these outbursts and made no progress on getting him out of the house, I suggested that I could help by tying the balloons together.  He went for it, and soon was holding four balloons, two in each hand.  He was very happy about it. He wanted to take them in the van.  Whatever, dude, let's just get our boots on.  His sister carried out a balloon too, and we were off. 

We parallel parked out side the post office and I opened the van.  "Peanut, we're just going to come around to your side." I said, unbuckling Boodge. Peanut gets worked up if she thinks we're leaving her in the van.  I unfurled the stroller, helped Boodge down, and reminded him that we were on the traffic side so he needed to hold my hand and be careful.  I began leading him towards the back of the van when he pulled from my hand and bolted for the front, "No, I want to go around this way."

I grabbed his arm quickly and pulled him back, afraid.  "No, you come with me, we're on the busy road and you need to listen."
But again he pulled from my arm, "I want to go around the front!"
I grabbed his wrist and pulled him along with me around the back of the van.  He was wailing, "I want to go around the front, why won't you let me go around the front!" I slid open Peanut's side door, and she was crying too because we had taken a while to get to her. 

That's when I remembered. This is why we stay home in the afternoons. Right.  I inwardly braced myself.

"You hurt me." Boodge sobbed now. "You hurt my arm. Why did you hurt me?"
Now feeling guilty, I squatted down and hugged him.  "I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt you.  But I was scared, because you ran away from me on the busy road and you could have been hurt. You can't do that. It's dangerous." I spoke sternly. 
"Why wouldn't you let me go around front? Why couldn't you hold my hand around the front way!?"
I sighed.  "Look, we can get Peanut in her stroller and I'll take you to the front way safely holding your hand."

But did I mention the balloons? He was still holding his, and Peanut still had hers.  But in that time that I took to walk back around the van with Boodge, making him wait watching for the cars to go by until we had a very safe window, Peanut let go and her balloon went blowing across the two lanes of traffic.  Now she was crying. And when Boodge saw that balloon go, any calm he had gained lifted right off him and he was crying again. I didn't help, either. I gave him a guilt trip, basically blaming him for his sister losing her balloon, which made him feel worse.  I was annoyed and things were going off the rails.

"I didn't want her to lose her balloon!" he sobbed. 
"Well, it's too bad she lost it. But we're not crossing two lanes of traffic to get it. It's lost. Let's go to the post office."

A minute later, as we were going up the ramp to the post office, I heard a voice, "I think you lost one!" A man came running up, holding Peanut's purple balloon. ,He had grabbed it and crossed the road just to run it back to her.  I wanted to kiss him, what a kind person!  Boodge choked back his sobs, looked at the man like he was a superhero and said, "Yeah, it's my sister's!"  We both thanked him enthusiastically.  Harmony was restored. Peace reigned again. My faith in humanity was replenished. 

Until. I hit the button to make the post office doors open.  "I wanted to hit the button!!!" Boodge wailed.  I looked up to the heavens for mercy.  Inside the post office there was a longer line tha I had ever seen there, and the woman at the front was lodging a complaint about her flyers ending up on someone's lawn.  People turned to look at my loud, crying son. 

"Let's go back outside so you can get calmed down before we do this ljne-up." I led us back outside and squatted down on the landing, taking a breather for myself as much as anyone.  A grandmotherly type woman exited the post office.   "Oh, how can you cry with so many balloons?!" she asked.

Boodge sobbed, "I wanted to press the button."

She looked at me curiously.  I explained.  She tried again.  "But you have those amazing balloons, you can't be sad."

But he could.  And he would.  She seemed to see that, and she said, "You know what. The door is open now, so you can't press the button. I'll watch it for you and see when it closes, and then you can push it." She made a big show of it, "Oh, still open, still open....still open....it's closed! It's closed, you can push the button!!"  Boodge lit up again, a smile on his face.  He pushed the button.  I thanked the lady and wished her a sincerely good day.  She smiled a knowing smile.  I thought of how great it would be to have my mom here. She would have handled it just like that.

Inside the post office, we joined the line.  Things were going smoothly then. Boodge was puttering around, a little too loud but he kept it down when I asked him to.  He wasn't crying.  Peanut....oh, Peanut, she was just taking it all in with her big blue eyes.  Thank you, Peanut.  She still has that graceful quality of seeming to know when I'm already at my limit, and keeping her peace.  Boodge disappeared around the corner to look at all the mailboxes, where he could come to no harm. I noted that the line had grown by about 4 more people behind me. 

Suddenly there was a loud gunshot sound.  Several people jumped, but I knew what it was. It was immediately followed by a wailing I know too well, and Boodge emerged with one popped balloon, awash in tears again.  Some people were cracking jokes about shots fired in the post office.  I saw other people smiling in sympathy, both for me and Boodge. Something about the child and the lost balloon--it brings out the best in people.  The faces around me were kind and tolerant, not tsk tsking about the loud crying child.  I hugged Boodge and murmured kind words. 

Finally it was our turn.  The man behind the desk greeted us with stickers in hand.  "Do you want a sticker." he asked Boodge.
"No," sobbed Boodge loudly, "I just want a balloon."
"But I don't have a balloon!" said the man in mock distress. "Does anyone have a balloon??"
I laughed, and so did the crowd watching.  The man had weighed and rang through my parcel all while entertaining me, my son, and the long line.  I paid my $2.35 to mail my package and I thanked the wonderful postman.  And we got the hell out of there. 

On the way home, Eddie Vedder hummed us all back into peace of mind with this song:

Thank you Eddie.

And thank you kindness of strangers.  It was the kind of situation that can leave a Mama fried and embarrassed, but instead I felt very grateful.  Nobody had scowled at me or my "acting up" kid.  Everyone had treated Boodge like a human being with valid problems, and me like a good mum doing her best in a bad situation.  I felt like I lived in a compassionate world, where people cared about my children and about me too, and supported me to be a mother.  It's just the world I want to live in, and I'm glad to be here.

Let's pass it on.