Here I go again. Another cra-azy day. I woke up late. We are literally the last car to drop off at school. Whoo! Then, I frantically take my other toddler and two month old baby to the doctor for the first round of immunization shots. I DO NOT LIKE DOING THIS! My sweet Eli, the toddler, did not eat breakfast. You can do the math, Eli + no breakfast = cranky Eli. My husband said we had “slightly” expired baby tylenol, yeah, um Dave, it’s almost a year expired! The nurse said, “Yeah, better toss that out.” No funds, and I need tylenol to feel like I am doing something to make my baby feel ok with these horrible shots I have forced on him. Amongst all this, I forgot to ask Dave the day before how to pay for this doctors visit, and it only takes four phone calls to figure this out. Ugh!
So, without any money, I need to feed my Eli and find baby tylenol (the nurse tried to get me some samples, but of course, they were out). Feeding myself sounded like a good idea too, before having to pick up Josh from school at noon. It is 10:45. “Really? Only 10:45? Not knowing how everything was going to fall into place is not easy for me to handle especially on an empty stomach. After counting my cents, I am in the parking lot of Target crying, yes crying and breathing, trying to pull myself together. Ok, I tell myself, “deep breath grab some strength and patience and your kiddos and go into the store. You can do this.” While I am having this dialogue with myself, I notice a larger woman getting into her car in front of me looking at me. I think, so what, I am crying quit staring.
And wouldn’t you know. That lady approached me. She was a bigger lady, and as she said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but are you ok?” I noticed a New York accent. I smiled and said, as most do, “yes, just a bad day.” She then proceeded, “I am a grandma, and I am going to give you a hug.” I did not hesitate. I needed this hug. She took both arms and wrapped them around me and gave a good old squeeze.
Then we talked a bit. She told me how her daughter had suffered some depression when she had a baby. I told her a bit of what was going on with me for that day, and she finished by saying I should prop my feet up when I get home and drink some wine. I chuckled, yeah….don’t drink. She started to walk away, but turned around and said, “AND PRAY.” This I had been doing all morning long with every little step I was taking. Praying for Josh to have a good day at school, for Sam to be brave with his shots, for Eli to stop being cranky, for me to have endurance, for money to magically appear for medicine and a hot dog, and for just some good ol’ fashioned peace. But….a little reminder doesn’t hurt.
Now you may ask how I knew she was Catholic??? She then said, “and if that doesn’t work, do your rosary.” There it was….my dear big Catholic angel. I don’t know her name, but I know who sent her. And I didn’t cry for the rest of the day, instead, I kind of chuckled.