As I have gone through the weekend, several topics have come up that I would love to include in my blog. I could talk about our many Halloween parties and Trick-or-Treating. I could relay how cute N~ was in the yearly Primary program in our sacrament meeting at church. Or maybe tell you about how C~ puked all over me as soon as we got home from church (on the ONE Sunday that Sean has a meeting after church each month, therefore leaving me without his assistance–thanks, Mom, for helping me out!). I could answer Julie’s meme, like I have been meaning to. Or I could write some brilliant prose about how the creation of blogging has seriously impacted the face of the adoption world (this WILL be written about, it will just require more brain power than I can currently muster).
Maybe I’ll just go with this one, little, (make me) feel good story. This morning, I ran up to the local mega store to buy a few odds and ends (new sippy cups, more candy to keep up with the Halloween that will not end, etc). Going to a large store with three small children is, to say the least, a challenge. I can usually make W~ and C~ both fit in the cart, but N~ walks (or wanders aimlessly, or goes off on tangents). And, of course, W~ doesn’t always feel like staying seated. They aren’t monsters, but it is an exhausting thing to do, nonetheless.
As we were exiting the store, I had stopped to let the boys look at a realistic pony, large enough to sit on, complete with accouterments and computer-generated movements, that was positioned for every small child to start begging for one for Christmas. As I stood there, a woman came up to me.
“Pardon me,” she started, “but I just really felt like I should tell you something.” She went on to explain that she had observed us several times as we wandered through the store.
“I see so many people just let their kids run wild through stores and be disruptive. I just wanted to let you know that you are doing a good job with your kids.”
She said that she knew it didn’t mean much coming from a complete stranger.
“No,” I told her, “it means a lot.” I know that she doesn’t see the times that I’ve had too much and yell. I know that she can’t tell how many times W~ watches Power Rangers in one week (or day!). But still, there is something great about knowing that, for one small moment in very public time, I passed the test.
It made my day.