Today was supposed to be a good day.
And it started out that way- a morning trip to the farmer’s market in our breezy summer best, a basketful of sunwarmed fruits and vegetables, giggles and grins playing in the gazebo in the square. We’d been cooped up with summer colds for days, so the fresh air did us all a world of good.
We decided to walk a few blocks down to the arts market before heading to lunch, as I had seen some colorful African baskets that I wanted to check out a bit more closely. This market was bustling with activity and just as picturesque as the food market, shaded by trees and anchored by a bubbling fountain in the middle.
The twins headed straight for the fountain, tugging on our hands with all the strength of exuberant two-year-olds. They squealed with delight at the trickling water and my heart swelled as I watched them frolic in the dappled sun, enchanted by something so simple.
I picked up my daughter and walked a few feet away to some of the vendor tables, admiring their colorful offerings and enjoying her soft arms draped around my neck. We walked slowly past a few booths and ended up by a small table tended by a single middle-aged woman selling jewelry and trinkets made with vintage buttons. As I leaned in for a closer look, she said,”I have lots of things here for little girls! The rings here, the bracelets here…”. As she showed us her wares, my son bounded up to my side, happy-go-lucky and eager to join in the fun. I got one glimpse of his sweet face smiling up at me before the woman saw him and exclaimed, “But no NO! NOTHING here for boys!” and proceeded to gesture wildly at him as if he were the most distasteful creature in existence.
My sensitive little boy, who had not even lifted a finger to touch a single item on her table, was instantly crestfallen. In a split second, I watched his shoulders droop, his head hang down in shame, and his lower lip pooch out and begin to quiver. “Oh, buddy, it’s ok!” I exclaimed as my husband ambled up behind him, unaware of the situation. The woman, most likely not realizing how hurtful she had been, went on to expand upon how much “real trouble” she’d had with little boys. “They’ll touch things, even grab things and run off!” she exclaimed indignantly, as if all this were somehow the fault of my curly-headed two-year-old who was basically crumpling right there in front of her with every additional biting word she spoke. Horrified, I was so grateful that Daddy was right there to scoop him up and comfort him just as he collapsed into a puddle of tears, his heartbroken wails piercing through the sun-kissed reverie of the square as well as every corner of my heart.
Appalled, I glanced at her and said, “Well, I am his mommy and he would have been just fine!” which is all I could manage to squawk out before turning to my son, my daughter still in my arms. “She didn’t mean it, baby” we crooned to him as he struggled to breathe through his sobs, but the damage was done, and hot tears pricked behind my eyes as I felt his confused pain and humiliation as if it were my own.
Huddled together, we left the square and soothed his feelings as best we could, helped by the distraction of lunch and a trip to the gelato shop. He recovered pretty well, but I remained dejected. I wanted to cry, I wanted to rush back and give the woman a piece of my mind, I wanted to reverse time to the moment where my son didn’t feel less than for the crime of simply existing.
I did return to the arts market, holding my little boy’s hand tight in my own, to purchase one of the colorful baskets I had admired that morning. I considered confronting the woman then and asking her if she had any idea how deeply she had hurt this tiny person that I love so very much. But then I saw her from afar, sitting alone on her stool behind her table of trinkets, her softly sloping shoulders exuding an air of defeat, and I decided to leave it alone. She most likely felt bad already, and what good would it do to make her feel worse?
Instead I pondered what it means to be a mother and the painful realization that things are going to happen to both my children that I cannot predict or shield them from, even if I’m right beside them. They are going to find out that people aren’t always tactful or welcoming, that no matter how hard they try, there are going to be those who are hurtful or unkind for one reason or another. All I can do is be there to wipe away the tears and soothe their hurt the best I know how, and hope I can survive this job called motherhood, simultaneously so beautiful and dreadful.
Oh, my heart.
I think you were wise in not going back to give that woman a piece of your mind. I think one of the hardest things about being a parent is watching them in pain and feeling helpless about it. However, if we are there to empathize with their pain it will do a lot more to help them learn to bear the inevitable pains of growing up and all the nasty people they will meet and maybe cause them pain, then jumping in and trying to get rid of the pain for them.
Oh, I want to cry for the poor little guy.
Though part of that is that we had a rough day too, so I’m already primed for it. You’re so right about it being hard to let things go, even after they have. As for the woman, I would have been furious.
Oh, this broke my heart! He sounds a lot like my son. I can’t believe she would say that let alone not apologise after seeing his reaction!
Oh Stephanie, people can be so insensitive. I have had to accept, that as a mother of a little girl with cancer, I cannot protect my children from pain and suffering, but I can teach them to get through it in an emotionally healthy way. I can teach them to be resillient, positive, empathetic human beings who can deal with challenges with postive attitudes! (And they teach me too, to live in the moment and get over things QUICKLY!)
I am so sorry that happened! We have never had an encounter that was quite at that level, but it seems like everywhere we go, people say things like “Oh WOW! Four boys! I could never do that!” Or, “Wow, you sure have your hands full! Are you still hoping you’ll get a girl?” as if the only reason we have so many boys is that we kept striking out and kept going for the girl. It’s sad, really. The good thing is that as our sons grow and some people take the time to notice that they really are pleasant guys to be around, it will help with the stereotype of boys as wild monsters! When people see my son pushing his brother in the stroller or getting him a drink, they are truly surprised and impressed. Hang in there, Mom! You’re doing a good job!
Dear Stephanie,
motherhood will only get tougher as our children continue to grow and to experience the different challenges in life. I’ve had my fair share of bumping into people who were nasty to my boys and I am glad that my maternal (protective) instincts have never failed to kick in. However, with much practice, I have learnt to take a step back to evaluate the situation every time I feel the need to pounce on nasty people and have chosen to use a non-confrontational approach. Instead, I try to use that as a good opportunity to:
1) build an even stronger and supportive relationship with my children (by comforting them), and
2) to use this as a teachable moment to help them understand their feelings/anxieties and develop coping strategies (by explaining to them that there will always be nasty people in this world who would constantly do nasty things to others).
You are right in saying that we can’t always be there to ‘protect’ or ‘shield’ our children. However, the only ‘protection’ that we can offer to our children is to teach them resilience so that no matter what life throws at them, they will be able to bounce back and to hit the ground running! Hope this helps you to feel better!
It’s a shame she doesn’t have access to your blog, otherwise she would fall in love with your sensitive little soul the way I imagine most of your readers have…
It broke my heart to read this. I only hope your gorgeous little boy is never made to feel like that again (although life is cruel) and that the woman realised how horrid she had been and never subjected another child to such meanness (although I doubt this is the case).
Love your blog, have just come across it and look forward to reading more.
Rhiannon @ Project: Organised Mummy x