O has been running into the street lately. I thought he was past that, but it seems that every time we are outside and I turn my back, he heads for the street.
And every time he does, I grab him by the hand and march him inside.
Every.single.time.
Even if that means five times in one hour. Which it often does.
B doesn't always look both ways before he crosses the street, and when he doesn't, I make him go back and start over.
Even in parking lots.
Even though he's holding my hand.
Because as their mom, I will do whatever I can to keep them safe.
Because above all else, that's my job.
Because that's what we're supposed to do.
Because, if we can't do that, then it doesn't matter how much we read to them, or talk in a nice mommy voice to them, or teach them to play well with others, or serve them organic milk and broccoli with free range chicken for dinner.
If we can't keep them safe, the rest of it doesn't matter much at all.
And yet, sometimes, I'm reminded of how much of this is out of our control.
When I watch the news, I'm reminded of that.
When I read the newspaper, I'm reminded of that.
And sometimes, just going through my day, I'm reminded of that.
N and I went to the grocery store the other day. We came out, she got in the car, and I loaded the groceries in the back. I debated pushing the shopping cart into the mulch in front of our parking space as I often do when the kids are with me, but felt somewhat guilty since the cart house was only four or five parking spaces away, so I decided to return it.
As I walked away from my car with the cart, I yelled to N "Be right back!", and as I did I saw a middle aged, gray haired man walking toward the store from the far end of the parking lot. It occurred to me that, by yelling to N, I had just advertised that I had left someone in the car, but since I was only walking a few parking spaces, I wasn't too worried about it.
Until I turned around to walk back to my car, and realized that the man wasn't anywhere to be seen.
That is, until he came around from the passenger side of my car and started walking toward the store again.
Which led to my first thought, which was
What the hell was he doing around the side of my car? Where my daughter is sitting inside?
And then my second thought, which was
Why is he staring at the ground, refusing to look up and make eye contact with me?
This may or may not sound like a big deal to you. But let me tell you, while I was having these thoughts, something else was happening.
My radar was going off. Big time.
I didn't know what was going on, but I knew that something was wrong with this picture.
He still wouldn't look at me, and continued walking toward the store as he stared at the ground, and it became increasingly clear to me that something was up.
So since he wouldn't look at me, I looked at him. As I moved over so that he was walking directly toward me. And I kept looking at him, as he continued to stare at the ground, and I became even more convinced that something weird was going on.
Eventually, when I had been staring at him, willing him to look at me, and walking directly into his path for ten seconds or so, he looked up.
I'm not sure what he thought of the look I was giving him, but from the rather flustered look on his face, I think he may have interpreted it to mean something along the lines of,
If you even think about hurting my child, I will kill you with my bare hands, right in this very parking lot.
His face turned red. He stammered and said something I couldn't understand, and looked nervously at the ground.
"What did you say?" I asked him.
He repeated himself, asking me for two dollars for bus money since he "blew up his car".
I stared at him some more, this time with a look that I think he may have interpreted to mean something like,
And then I will run you over. Repeatedly.
His face seemed to get redder, as I stared at him a few seconds longer, before I finally said "No, I don't have any money".
I'm not sure, but I think he may have interpreted something in my tone of voice to mean,
I don't care if you're bigger than me and a man and I never even learned how to make a proper fist. I will hurt you. Seriously. You should probably go back to wherever you came from. Now.
And interestingly, instead of continuing on in the direction he had been walking, he turned around and walked away.
He didn't continue walking toward the store.
He didn't ask any of the several other shoppers around if they had bus money.
He just left.
In other words, he came from the opposite end of the parking lot, approached a car that he either believed to be empty or believed to have a child in it, was clearly surprised to see me, looked very nervous, asked me for two dollars, and then turned around and went back to where he came from without speaking to anyone else.
And no, in case you think I'm having delusions of grandeur, I don't really think I could have hurt him. But I do know that that wouldn't have stopped me from trying. And I know, it's a terrible thing to say that I would run someone over in a parking lot. But just so we're on the same page about that, I'm pretty sure that knowing that it's a terrible thing wouldn't stop me from doing that, either.
If I thought he was going to hurt my child.
A friend on facebook mentioned wanting a gun when she read this story, and I told her that I had that same thought. Except I don't think I would ever carry a gun, because I was so bat shit crazy at the mere thought that this guy might have had ill intentions toward my child, that I'm fairly certain that if I'd had a gun that day, I would have, at a minimum, waved it in his face.
And now I'd be in jail. And that would suck. So, no gun for me.
At least, I don't think so.
But maybe if I switched to decaf, I could get a gun.
Anyway, when I got in the car, N asked me what that guy was doing, and when I asked her what she saw, she said he was standing on the passenger side of our car, staring into it.
I don't know what he was doing. I don't know if his car really did break down. I don't know if he was just confused, or embarrassed, or not well in some way. I don't know if he really just needed bus fare. I don't know if he was looking for spare change, or a purse, or someone's child.
And, in all honesty, once I was in my car and we were driving away, I started wondering if I had misjudged the situation in some way. I even looked to see if I had two dollars in my purse. Because if he really did need two dollars for bus fare, I would want to give it to him.
But then my radar started talking to me.
It said Hello, dumb ass. I already told you something was not right about this. You know this situation just FELT wrong. And, oh by the way, he was STARING INTO YOUR CAR WHERE YOUR SEVEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER WAS SITTING.
Duh.
So then I called the police, and told them about the weird guy in the parking lot, who may or may not have really been looking for bus fare, but who was acting not quite right.
And I was reminded once again that safety isn't just about seat belts, and looking both ways, and not running into the road.
Of course, I will continue to make them buckle up, and look both ways, and not run into the road.
But I will also remember to listen to my radar.
And I will remember this experience in a year, or two, or three, when N begs me to let her wait in the car while I run into the store.
I will remember to once again tell my daughter--and eventually, my sons--that not everyone is nice, or kind, or has her best interest at heart.
To tell her that it's OK not to be nice. That it's OK to walk away, or to ignore someone when they're talking to you, or to turn around and scream at them in your craziest crazy lady voice that they better Get the hell away from you right f'in now.
If the situation seems to warrant it, of course.
I will remember to tell her that it's OK to refuse to hug the overly familiar neighbor, or family friend, or even uncle, if it makes her uncomfortable.
I wish, of course, that I didn't have to tell them any of these things.
But sometimes, unfortunately, the best chance we have of keeping them safe in this world is to make sure they know just how unsafe it can be.
Tonight we are getting ready for Hurricane Sandy. She's expected to arrive tomorrow, and hang around for a day or two, bringing high winds and heavy rain, and high tides. Jimmy got the generator ready, and gassed up our cars, and put the lawn furniture away. I made sure we had lanterns, and flashlights, and batteries.
And other important storm related items, like Little Debbie oatmeal pies, and Doritos, and beer.
And the five of us (OK, six, counting Bella), will likely hunker down in our basement for a day or two, with some lights from a generator, and some new coloring books, and some
And I will pray a lot.
But in spite of that, I will also be grateful for the fact that all of us will be here, together, in one room.
Driving each other crazy.
While all of that stays out there.
Where it belongs.
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