Today’s guest post comes from Amanda Williams of Life. Edited. When she sent it to me, I was struck by its messy honesty and beautiful grace. I’m happy to pass both along to you today. –Tamara
________________________________________________________
There was a ninety percent chance of rain, but we went anyway. One mama, one papa, two grandparents and three kids under four piled into two cars and piled out at the zoo.
We had been feeding lorikeets and herding children for about twenty minutes when the rain began. Opting for lunch over misery, our party of seven took cover in the Zoo Cafe.
It was our typical game of Maintain Your Mealtime Sanity. Papa retrieves two high chairs while Mama prevents runaways. Mama settles twins into high chairs while Papa orders lunch with extremely vocal four-year old in tow. Mama attempts to entertain hungry toddlers with stale Cheerios, one book, and crayons with no paper. Magically, food appears and the invisible timer starts ticking.
T-minus fifteen minutes until meltdown.
[Our children arenʼt much for being restrained.]
As if on cue, it begins. Sippy cups bang the tabletop. Half-chewed bites of PB&J are tossed to the floor. An animal cracker soars overhead. Squeals of delight become all out ear-piercing screams. We try all the usual remedies – threats, pacifiers, peace offerings of sugary treats, singing about the mamas on the bus going shhh shhh shhh. No dice.
I hear her before I see her. An unhappy girl, maybe twenty years old, rounds the corner on the other side of the room and yells in our general direction. “TAKE YOUR KID OUT OF HERE! Itʼs ridiculous!”
Everything inside of me caught fire. Had she been within armʼs reach I may have
punched her in the gut, though Iʼm generally not a gut-punching kind of woman. I wanted to swoop my babies up, all three of them, and hide them from the mean yelling lady, a mama bird protecting her young. I wanted to jump up and scream back. “Do you think I enjoy this?! At least youʼre halfway across the room!”
Itʼs the zoo, lady. If you want peace and quiet, go to the freaking library.
I wanted to do all those things. What I did was nothing. We gathered up our people and our possessions and we left.
We were finished eating anyway.
Did you hear that, Mean Yelling Lady? DO NOT THINK YOUʼVE WON.
My insides burned all the way to the car, in spite of the falling rain. My heart flamed red the whole ride home. My mind spewed retorts while I silently stripped my boys of their shoes and socks and lay them in their cribs.
I have thought about this incident approximately 1,362 times since. The disgust in her words. The “Yeah!” echoed by a faceless voice in the crowd. The couple at the table next to ours leaping to our defense. “Nice! Real nice!” he yelled back at her. Then to us, “Donʼt listen to them.”
The way she wouldnʼt look at my face when I went back inside to apologize.
The sadness in her eyes that trumped the annoyance a hundredfold.
The discontent manifested as irritability and impatience. I recognized it because it looks just like mine.
When I think of her now, there is no more anger. The fireʼs gone out and the thing left burning is a need for more. More hope for the mean yelling lady. More grace in my heart for my kids. More common ground between a mother of three and a mother of none, each panicked by our lack of control, our inability to make wrong things right and hard things easier.
A church sign I saw a few months ago on the way to Parentʼs Day Out [insert Hallelujah Chorus here] has embedded itself in my brain. Iʼve since decided it might be my favorite ever.
“Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a battle.”
Mean Yelling Lady and I should both take the hint.
__________________________________________________________
Amanda Williams is the stay-at-home mama of 22-month-old twin boys and a spunky four-year-old girl. In her spare time, she likes to stare at the wall, inhale coffee and chocolate, take pictures and write words. Her life goals include celebrating her 50th wedding anniversary, keeping her children from breaking a limb before age five, and successfully executing a no-spill refill of the kitchen sink soap dispenser.
Keep up with Amanda here:
More hope, grace, and common ground… you said it all. Thank you.
Thanks, Carolyn.
Very beautiful. We all need reminding of this . . . some more than others (and that would be me).
And I’m right there with you! Easier said than done, but fortunately there’s that grace thing. Thanks, Lizzie.
Love it!! I’ve been a big fan of Amanda’s for a year now and she never ceases to both amuse, amaze and convict me. Thanks for letting her share here!!
Hi, friend! You are such an encouragement. Thank you. Have a good day over there on the other side of the ocean.
It’s my pleasure! I love this post!
Awesome.
Thanks, Larry. Nice to meet a fellow dysfunctional friend. (just popped over to your site!)
“Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a battle.”
That’ll preach. Wonderfully written, Amanda! So fun to see you over here.
This is a blast. Thanks for the virtual high five, LK.
When you don’t have kids its easy to know what to do. Grace is hard to come by these but I’m convinced that grace begets grace. Amanda, your writing is so beautiful and poignant! I really appreciate it!
Grace begets grace. Love that and totally agree. It’s like the divine “pay it forward.” Thanks so much, Erin.
Amanda, thank you for sharing your story with us today– it’s great to have you here!
Are you kidding? Thank YOU for sharing your space and your readers with me today. This is so much fun.
Nice
Glad you enjoyed it:)
Thanks for sharing that message, Amanda… I will certainly be taking it with me to work (at my restaurant job) tonight!
Awesome. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to employ it! I was in customer service for a long time, so I can relate. Thanks for saying hi.
Pingback: everyone you meet | lindsaymuller
Hi Amanda: Nice to meet you!
I have watched this scene play out countless times, and I am always amazed by how people react so differently. I don’t think it is actually so different from any other stressful situation: there are always bystanders, those who watch and do nothing; victims, those being attacked; rescuers, those who are willing to stick their necks out to try to help and fix the situation — and the perpetrators. And as you said, you just don’t know what is going on inside of them to make them so hateful. Thank you for sharing your words today.
Tamara knows the coolest people.
Yes! The English major in me loves the way you broke down the scene into different characters. And I think you are right; so many stressful situations are just different versions of the same old human tendencies. We bump into each other, literally and figuratively. We get frustrated, we set bogus and unspoken expectations, we have a hard time thinking of anything from another’s perspective… We are jacked up. At least, I am. Thank God for grace and a chance to see things differently.
Thanks for chiming in, Renee. Nice to meet you, too.
I absolutely love that quote! I’m going to maybe write that down and bring it with me to work. Sometimes I get some really crabby people and I’ve always tried to tell myself there’s an underlying reason why they may be acting that way. They don’t need to tell me what it is if they don’t want to, but it’s a nice thing to remember everyone has their battles they are fighting.
People are crabby while getting a massage?!
Thanks for your perspective on this. I love that quote, too. It’s a game changer, for sure.
Hi Amanda. Thanks for this post. I can relate to what you’re sharing, but I think I’m often on the other side of the fence. I have to stop myself from glaring at kids/parents when they misbehave (yes the adults too) and refrain myself from putting on a “my-kids-would-never-do-that” or “what-are-his/her-parents-thinking” face. I have to remind myself that everyone’s trying to make their way in life the best way we know how. I have to remind myself that I’m fortunate to have the family I have. These reminders pop up at random every so often, and your post was one such reminder. Thank you.
Hi, Audrey. Thanks for your comment and especially for your honesty. I’ve definitely been “the mean lady” in this scenario, in my heart anyway. I’m much more sympathetic to parents now that I’m a mom, but I still (and often) give judgement when I should give grace. I agree; it helps so much to have friends to remind us of the truth.
We’re definitely all trying. Some of just try more successfully than others! Keep it up!
Pingback: Guest Post: “Everyone You Meet” « theamorousprawn
Wow. You can write.
And you tell a story.
I too have twins. I’ve been there. And I’ve been the mean lady, at least in my head.
Thanks, Leanne. I’m happy you liked it. I’m even happier to meet a fellow twin mom who’s made it to year 7 and lived to tell about it. I’m not sure if it is the insanity of chasing the almost-2-year-old boys, or the combination of them and their delightful-yet-crazy sister, but sometimes I genuinely wonder if we’ll make it.
(We will. Right, Tamara? Say yes.)
Back to the mean lady — I’ve been her, too, at least in spirit. And I’m sure I will be her again. Thank God for grace. And chocolate.
You can give without loving, but you can’t love without giving.
That’s a sermon in itself! Thanks, Edwin.
beautiful! Thanks for sharing your story and reminding us of the need to give grace to others.
Trisha, so glad you enjoyed it. I needed the reminders, too, so I’m honored to pass this one along.
*Happy* to pass this one along. *Honored* to do so here at TOL.
Sorry, couldn’t resist clarifying. That first reply came out weird and acceptance speech-ish.
Wonderful post — thanks Amanda, and thanks to Tamara for sending you over here
There seems to be something about you mothers-of-twins; you seem to have added insight into grace!
Ha! Probably because we require more.
Thanks, Sarah. So glad you liked it.
LOVE this Amanda! This is one of my favorite quotes. I have not read it in a while and should read it everyday! I, like you at first, would have wanted to jump up like the mama bear and defend my young. I was actually thinking of comments that could have been made back at this chick! Then, as I read further, I felt what you described and actually had empathy for her. I was her once. Thank you for posting! And thank you, Tamara, for re-posting. You just never know…
It is definitely something I need to remember more often than I do. Thank you, Joy!
Pingback: Yummy-Yummies: Nom nom nom « Lessons From Teachers and Twits
my father always said to never judge a person until you’ve walked a mile in there shoes. no one walks a mile anywhere anymore, but your post brings it home, they are fighting a battle in those shoes.
thank you.
That is great advice, some that I should take to heart. Thank you, Marily.
Thank you for sharing your story
Thank you for reading! Glad you stopped by.
Great post and great meaning to life as well! Thanks for the lesson, I needed that reminder because I’ve had SO many situations where I wish I had said something and I didn’t! Great post!!
Glad you liked it! Thanks for chiming in.
So glad Renee recommended this post! About a year ago (wow, I think I missed my blogging birthday), I wrote a post that was Freshly Pressed about my then 2-yr old’s temper tantrum. In the FP comment storm I had several negative comments about my unruly children and poor parenting skills. As much as I tried to ignore, move on, find the high road … I ranted and raved to my poor husband and friends each time I read from one those people who apparently parent angels instead of children. I was just like you on your drive home — for days!
Your post gives some amazing perspective and I LOVE your writing. Looking forward to reading more. Also, the church sign is great — I have that quote on my desk at work. Because I need the reminder frequently. Thank you!
Ah! Thanks so much, Amy.
I’ve always felt protective of my children, of course, but the zoo incident was the first time I really felt it in that burning, “don’t you dare” sort of way. It was just a few moments in time, yet it was all I could think about for days after. One day when my kids encounter the inevitable meanness of middle school, I will be a complete basketcase.
Thanks for the kind words. Glad to connect with you here.
I really enjoyed reading this. The quote at the end is a great one. As for kids making scenes in public places, I happen to love it. That’s what kids do. It’s called life. Whenever I see parents looking embarrassed as they try to hush their kids in restaurants, I make an effort to smile at them. I know it must be hard. Harder than being the observer, that’s for sure.
God bless you for that! A little kindness goes a long way when one’s children are having a public meltdown. I love your perspective, too. It really is humorous in the grand scheme of things; just sometimes not in the moment.
well said!
So… Amanda, Leanne and Tamara… all mothers of twins? All bloggers that use lots of humor…. Hmmn…..
Could it be that as mothers of twins you use writing as an outlet so you don’t end up using crayons on the walls yourself?
Great post, Amanda. Totally hate those situations where all of a sudden someone is yelling out of the blue. Renee labeled the cast perfectly. I like to think I’m a fixer, but I’m probably more of a passive/don’t do anything-er…. at least in person…..
Thanks so much, Dan.
And yes, writing is one of the things that keeps me from losing my mind (most days). Writing and food. For the record, being an emotional eater and the mother of twin toddlers (and a very dramatic four year old) is not a great combination.