Wal-Mart: More Than I Bargained For

Just a quick run into Wal-Mart to pick up a few items was all I planned. I had the Pie and her friend, Queen Bee with me. As we meandered down the midway aisle, I heard a most disturbing voice screaming, "Stop touching her! I will beat the hell out of you!" I peeked around the school supply display to see a woman with two small children in her shopping cart; they cowered and huddled. Shoppers and employees began to gather around as the woman's voice got louder and her threats became more serious. I stopped in my tracks, stunned at her behavior.

A young woman, a shopper, politely said, "Excuse me," and the Mean Woman (as I will now refer to her) turned on her heel and began hollering, "Leave me alone!" More and more people gathered around while Mean Woman continued to lose her mind. It reminded me of someone attempting to capture a wild animal. Her eyes bulged and she was quite jumpy, easily irritated.  We all watched in horror as she just kept screaming at those babies. I think we were all shocked that she would act in such a way in public! And then, it happened.

The little boy in the cart incidentally put his feet on his little sister and Mean Woman fell loose from herself. She reached into the back of the cart and blindly swatted, connecting several times with heads and faces. The surrounding people, all women by the way, rushed her and began admonishing her to calm down; one older lady tried to pull the cart away from Mean Woman. This did not set well with Mean Woman because she roughly shoved the cart away and bowed up on the lady. It was at this point, my arm went around the Pie and Queen Bee, ushering them behind greeting card display, and I

took my post in the fray.

Employees called for managers, shoppers threatened to call police and Mean Woman called to a couple of us to "bring it on!" I called to her that those children deserved better than her as a mother and she kept repeating that they were kids and she would do whatever she wanted with them or to them; there was nothing anyone could to her, she swore. Older Lady shocked me by saying she would take those babies right out of the cart if she had to. I thought, "you go, older lady!" Mean Woman chest bumped Older Lady to keep her away from the children and I stepped in. I got in her face and calmly explained that she was embarrassing herself and if she didn't want to find herself in jail, she needed to calm down and walk away. She obscenely invited me to engage in coitus with myself (if you get what I'm trying to say, here) and that was all I needed.

Without raising my voice, (too much) I said: "Okay, I get it. You are frustrated and scared. You might be at the end of your rope - what mother hasn't been?  But those babies are not your property - they are your responsibility. Is this how you want them to remember you?" She looked at the children and back at me. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew something hateful would spew out of her mouth. Managers gathered and interrupted what I thought was a productive moment and asked the woman to leave. Mean Woman stormed out in a cloud of vulgarity and obscenity, tossing the items already in her cart to the floor, children still looking confused and scared. I retrieved the Pie and Queen Bee from their hiding place and continued my shopping trip, the girls asking questions with every step. And that's when I began to quietly worry.

What happens when she gets those kids home, all to herself? Will she beat them and blame them for embarrassing her, when really she did it to herself? Will she scream curses at them, deny them food, physically abuse or neglect them. I have to wonder that if a mother would display such cruelty to children under the age of 3 in a public place, what stops her from doing worse in the privacy of her home? I am heartbroken and sick about this incident, and terrified that I might read about those cute children in a headline soon.

My Brush with Mortality

In the movie Meet Joe Black , Death pays a visit to a man to warn him of his impending demise. Brad Pitt didn't stop by my house for coffee a couple of weeks ago, but it felt to me like he might be lurking around the corner. And not in a good way.

Mowing the yard is usually one of my favorite tasks because I get to strap on earbuds and listen to 80s dance music at dangerously high decibels and escape from someone needing me for at least 90 minutes. It gives me an opportunity to de-stress and do mind numbing manual labor. It was also, apparently, the chance for me to scare the shit out of my neighbors! One minute I was busy mowing and the next minute I was on the ground surrounded by a bunch of men. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't complain, but I didn't have any recollection of how I got in that position. Admittedly, I was unnerved.

A short time later, I was loaded into an ambulance and transported to an emergency room in the neighboring city, the paramedics being convinced I had suffered a head injury as the result of a fall. The full lights and sirens ride was kind of cool, but during the whole episode all I could think was, "What about the Pie and Dad?" What if I had to be admitted to the hospital? What if it was something serious? Who would take care of them?

Here's what I figured out: if something puts me out of commission, they are screwed! They won't have me to clean the house, wash clothes, prepare meals, wash dishes, open jars and packages, shop for groceries, apply bandages and ointments, pick up items dropped or left on the floor, or mow the yard. During the crisis, my neighbor stepped up and took the Pie to her house, but my Dad was left alone in the house with only the sketchy information he received from a paramedic. I know he worried himself into a state while I was gone. It's what he does.

The truth is, I am terrified of leaving this earth while I am still needed. The Pie is only 7 and has so much to experience and I want to share that with her. If I go before my Dad, I am certain he would follow quickly behind me, just because he refuses to go to a nursing facility. Facing my own mortality is a very uncomfortable proposition for me. I fear the possibility of agonizing pain related to dying, of dying in the water, of dying in a fire, of dying in a car crash. Well...of dying.

I was scared. Very scared. Mostly because there were so many questions I couldn't answer. Questions still exist for me...how would my death change the Pie? How would she adjust to her new home in Kansas? How would she handle holidays without me? Would she be taught all the things I still need to teach her? I trust that the people I have chosen to care for her in the event of my death would do an excellent job raising her, but would they do it as well as only I can?

What I do know is that I must cherish every moment with her, guide her into being a good citizen and hope my influence stays with her even after I'm gone.

These Are the People in Your Neighborhood

Ah, Saturday mornings...the perfect time for big breakfasts, garage sales, and obscenity spewing little old ladies.

Yesterday, I had completed one and was on my way to another when I encountered the third. 

After sharing eggs and bacon with the new man in my life, I headed back home and followed a sign for a garage sale. I noticed an elderly woman walking and thought nothing of it because it's a common sight in the neighborhood. Her lack of shoes did catch my attention and as I cruised past, I witnessed her tumble and fall head first into the sidewalk. I immediately pulled over, threw the car in gear and hopped out to assist her. 

A bleeding goose-egg perched in the middle of her forehead, so I made her just sit still for a few minutes until I could get to the collection of fast-food napkins I house in my car's glove compartment. I put some pressure on the injury and slowed the bleeding, but she was determined to get up and walk somewhere. Her name was Jewel and she insisted I knew her brother Roy and she wanted me to take her to his house. While she jibber jabbered to me, I led her to my car under the guise of taking her to Roy's. Jewel patted my hand, muttering incoherently, and said she was glad to see me. She would soon change her mind. 

I called 911 and explained that I was assisting an elderly woman with a bleeding head injury and the paramedics/fire department arrived in a flash! The tone of my quaint visit with Jewel rapidly deteriorated at light speed to a panicked, foul mouthed rage fest! The six men gathered at my vehicle looked at me like I was punking them! I tried to explain to them the events that occurred, but I was reduced to a fit of giggling about the time I heard "you stupid cock biters, leave me alone!" issue from the woman in my car. The young men spoke with her as professionally as her vulgarity would allow, but even they got frustrated as her tirade continued. When they attempted to guide Jewel to the ambulance, she suddenly gained Kung Fu Master status or something because all I saw was little arms and legs flying around and momentary glimpses of a little grey head. The image coupled with the stream of obscenities was enough to send all of the hot firemen into paroxysms of laughter, so they backed off. Little Old Jewel continued to fling curses at us, like "you son of a whore, you stupid sumbitch, don't touch me with your F**ing devil prick." Finally, one EMT advised me that they appreciated my attempt to help the woman and that they would take it from there. 

I was a little dejected that I wouldn't have an opportunity to learn more cuss words and phrases, kinda like an Adult Sesame Street. Today's lesson is brought to you by the letter F and the middle finger!! 

Bathroom Buddies

I have witnessed many things during my numerous trips to Wal-Mart, but this morning topped just about every other experience I've ever had there. It literally changed the course of a young woman's life. While I waited for The Cuteness to potty, a young woman entered the restroom and chose a stall. After a few minutes, I heard her exclaim, "Oh, no! Oh, no...oh, God, no!"  Thinking perhaps she was on her cell phone, I ignored it and continued to wait until my assistance was requested from The Cuteness. Soon, the young woman, opened the stall door

She looked at me with wet eyes and said, "Can I ask you a question?" Always ready to impart wisdom or opinion, I responded in the affirmative. "Is it hard to be 21 and have a baby?" she asked as she brandished a newly peed upon pregnancy test. What I wanted to say was, "Hell, it's hard to be 42 and have a baby!" But instead, I smiled and said, "Oh, honey...let me buy you a cup of coffee," as I steered her to the McDonald's restaurant inside the store.

Her name was Lydia and she was terrified. She was in a fairly new relationship and wasn't sure of the reaction of the baby's father. She chattered for a while as I simply nodded and smiled. She needed to process the information and I was a willing sound board...a stranger she just met in the Wal-Mart bathroom. As good a person as any, I suppose.

Eventually, she took a breath. I took this as my cue to jump in. I explained that having a baby at any age was a unique challenge, but it was one that millions of women have accepted and triumphed over. She asked questions, I shared my story and related some lessons and advice. She even wrote some things down on a napkin!

After about an hour, we hugged and parted ways, both of us having experienced the oddly happy occasion of making a friend in a Wal-Mart bathroom.

Life Lessons at 87 Feet In the Air

It was my birthday and our charming town was hosting the annual founder's day festival, complete with carnival. The Pie is a sucker for rides and funnel cakes, so we grabbed her Favorite Aunt and commenced our adventure. We walked among the teenagers and oldsters who celebrated an unencumbered night out, dodging toddlers who had ingested too much lemonade, and at some point made the capricious decision to stand in line for the Ferris Wheel. 

The Pie said she wanted to "face my fears" and ride the giant wheel. Having never ridden one myself, I was proud that she was willing to conquer whatever those fears were, but I knew she couldn't ride it alone. And I had some fears of my own to deal with. Initially Favorite Aunt was to join us, but the three of us would not fit in one car. So, I swallowed the terror that rose into my throat and took my seat next to The Pie. 

We buckled our seat belt, snapped the safety rod in place and I felt pretty good. Then

Here we are just as our adventure began

the wheel moved. The Pie emitted a soft squeaking noise and I began to feel my bowels loosen. I clutched at The Pie with my right hand while my left hand seized the safety bar with crushing intensity. The stop and go as others loaded the ride was maddening! Every movement made me nauseous and made The Pie cry even harder. I whispered, "It's okay, it's okay..." but I can't be entirely sure if my attempt to soothe was meant for my daughter or myself. The time dangling in the car, swinging back and forth at the lightest  movement, was interminable. At about the fourth stop, The Pie, through tears,  stated forcefully that she wanted off the ride immediately. 

Knowing there was no way to communicate her desire, I attempted to mollify her as if I were approaching a wild animal. My heart thumped as I calmly explained that we couldn't get off; my buttocks clenched tighter into the imitation leather seat as I encouraged her to be brave and enjoy the adventure. Favorite Aunt had taken my cell phone before we boarded to get some photos, so I couldn't even text her to have the ride operator get us off. And I TOTALLY would have! There was a bit of a stiff wind that intensified the higher we went and I could feel a panic attack coming on. Eventually, my progeny and I found ourselves stopped at the very top of the Ferris wheel and I began to look around us.  

I saw the sunset from a new perspective; I was over 80 feet in the air and could see for what seemed miles. I can't remember the last time I paid attention to a sunset. I drew The Pie's focus to the slowly setting sun and she commented about how pretty the colors were. Lights from the next town twinkled cheerily and she laughed as she joked that she could see the whole world. My muscles began to stop their spasm parade and The Pie and talked about how beautiful it was so far up in the air. Then mercifully, the wheel started its rotations and the ride began in earnest. 

My grinding grasp on The Pie's rib cage eased and she let out a little giggle. "This is not so bad," she said. "I faced my fears, Mama!"  With perhaps a little too much forced perkiness, I replied, "You sure did!! I'm so proud of you!" After a couple more rotations of the Ferris wheel, I relaxed and realized I was having fun!  I said, "Hey, Pie, can I tell you something?" She nodded her little blonde head, her golden hair bouncing on the breeze. 

"I was really scared. Really, really scared to get on this ride. But because you were so brave, you helped me be brave, too. And I faced my fears!" Her face instantly glowed with pride and she reached for my hand. "We did it TOGETHER, Mama! As long as we're together, we can do anything!" And she's right. 

Life is like a Ferris wheel. The ride is what you make it out to be. It can start out terrifying but but eventually, you wind up on top. And if you're lucky, you'll have someone you love by your side. 

What I Believe

If we happen to meet at some social gathering, here's a tip: 
Do not ask my thoughts about abortion, racial intolerance, bullying, Obama, war or any other incendiary topic. I make a conscious effort to very rarely participate in political or religious discussions. Not because I don't care about the issues, but because I am not informed enough on current topics to be able to speak coherently about them. Plus, I only care about issues that directly affect me and my family. I understand that as an American, a mother, a baby boomer, or any of the other positions or labels that may apply to me, I have a responsibility to be aware of what's happening in our government. 

Ain't nobody got time for that! Seriously, I am way too busy to concern myself over what Senator or Congressman abused their power on any given day, or what some has-been celebrity thinks about gay marriage. I can't concern myself with starving children half a world away, when I often struggle to feed my own! I have absolutely NO reason to comment on Obamacare, because my dad has Medicare and my daughter and I are on Medicaid. I don't care that some muckety-muck told his girlfriend to not bring black people to basketball games. War, what is it good for? Unless some crazy-ass country attacks American soil, I won't be able to talk about wars or military actions or conflicts in other countries. 

What I CAN say is what I believe. In my heart, where it counts. Admittedly, some of my beliefs are diametrically opposed to one another.  But it is I, not you or some politician, that will have to reconcile that. I don't need someone who can't run the country telling me how to run my life. 

I BELIEVE in God. Nuff said. 

I BELIEVE that public education should be a priority to the government. The children we educate today will be the leaders of the future. Further, I BELIEVE that teachers should NEVER have to pay out of their overstretched pockets to purchase supplies for their classrooms. 

I BELIEVE that a woman should have the right to decide what happens to her body. With specific regard to abortion, I think it should be legalized and made safe for women who make the decision, for whatever reason, to terminate their pregnancy. 

I BELIEVE that gay marriage should be legalized across the country. I know a gay couple that has been together nearly 20 years. They should be able to have the same rights as any other couple in love. With the divorce rate at nearly 50% in this country, we need something to lower those odds! 

I BELIEVE that veterans of the military should be treated with respect and dignity and given as many benefits as possible. For as long as they live. 

I BELIEVE that recipients of welfare payments, food stamps (and I am one), and other government subsidies should be subjected to drug tests. I will happily go pee in a cup every 6 months in order to feed my family. 

I BELIEVE that healthcare should be affordable and available to all American citizens. The government should not force people to purchase insurance if they don't want it or can't afford it. 

I BELIEVE that if my child publicly behaves in a way that warrants a swat on the behind, I should not be approached by store managers when I deliver it in the housewares section of their store. 

I BELIEVE that if I choose to drive without a seat belt, the risk I take is my own. Survival of the fittest. 

I BELIEVE that if some kid is truly bullying my daughter at school, she should have the right to protect herself from those assaults - verbal or physical. 

I BELIEVE that society has softened younger generations by formulating "less offensive" phrases. Fat people should be called fat, not "full figured."  Black people should be called black, not "pigmentally enhanced." People with "personality challenges" should just be called assholes. 

I BELIEVE that we should support our active military personnel in their endeavors. We don't have to agree with their missions. But conversely, 

I BELIEVE that "big swinging dick" government types should stay out of other countries' business and focus on the wars already raging here on American soil. 

Finally, 
I BELIEVE that I should be able to state my beliefs without fear of retribution, attempts to sway my thoughts or denigration. It's a free country, right? 

Right? 

Looking for Jesus

Last night, I was explaining an Easter project to my father and mentioned that an object represented Jesus. He said, "Who?" I got a little giggle, but later realized that there probably needs to be a bit more spirituality in our house. For the past several months, my personal quest has been to find a permanent church home for The Pie and me. 

I've researched and visited a number of different churches in our town, but still haven't found one that appeals to me. The Pie staked her claim on a church that has an incredible children's area featuring a computer room, a craft barn and a movie theatre. She declared it "her" church. My experience didn't make me feel as certain. I enjoyed the sermon and the preacher, but was thoroughly nonplussed by everything else. I was not welcomed as a visitor. No one spoke to me or offered assistance. 

My parents raised me in a Southern Baptist church. The preacher I grew up with was a brilliant speaker, a true teacher of the Bible and a good man. An unfortunate scandal rocked his ministry to the core, and our family joined the mass exodus that followed. We decided to work with a number of other families and chartered a new Baptist church in town. My mother passed away before the building could be finished, but I remained loyal, despite the painful memories attending the church evoked. I eventually found my calling in the nursery and for years was the co-director with a beautiful soul named Miss Melba. When it came to my attention that the associate pastor had physically threatened the wife of a deacon during a meeting, I turned in my keys to the church and left. It broke my heart and I have never felt part of a church family since. 

When I became a parent, it was important to me that The Pie knew God in some way. We didn't regularly attend church, but we talked about Heaven and God. She knows her grandma lives in Heaven with God and that someday she will meet her. I've shared Bible stories with her and she is inquisitive about many related topics. We've become one of those families that only attends church on Christmas and Easter ... and I hate that. 

My problem is this: I don't care for the current trend of "consumer-driven" churches. Every one I visit features rock bands and Power Point presentations. No hymns are sung, only repetitive choruses of songs whose lyrics are shown in the aforementioned Power Points. In the church I most recently visited, I was the only person carrying a Bible. It was quite disconcerting. Even the services that are touted as "traditional" have allowed the 21st century to infiltrate them. To me, worship is quiet, dignified and a learning experience, not a pep rally or rock concert. I get the feeling in many situations that churches have allowed themselves to become businesses rather than temples. The churches in my town are not small; they build giant monoliths of buildings with amusement park quality play areas and coffee bars and appeal to the the young upwardly mobile families with sizable bank accounts and vehicles. Kind of a "hipster Christian." I don't fit in there. 

Interesting side note: the church I helped to charter over 20 years ago has no recognizable community service assistance program in place. Every other church in town offers help with food, utility payment, gift baskets and other ministries to help those less fortunate. That one has no real community presence. 

I'm looking for a place to fit in; a place where my daughter can grow up with a solid, traditional foundation of God's word. A place where I can find instruction, comfort and fellowship. It's difficult for me to believe that in a town with 37 churches and no bars I can't find what I seek.