Every weekday, by the time I get to the elementary school to pick up the girls, I'm usually in a bad mood. Not a bad mood where I'm cranky outwardly, but mentally I'm fighting a battle not to be overwhelmed with the load I've got ahead of me for that evening.
By the time I pick up the girls, I've either worked all day and I'm tired - or - I've spent the day running errands, doing laundry, or cleaning the house. Either way, by 5pm, I'm toast and NOT looking forward to dinner, homework, soccer, bathing and bedtime - what I call 'round 2' of everyday.
Sometimes, when I go to pick up the girls, I am in the parking lot at the same time as another mother taking her child home from the school. I notice them often and usually stay in my car long enough to watch them, without them knowing, as they go out to their car.
Why do I watch them?
Well, the child is in a wheelchair. One of chairs that reclines and has a headrest for her, which tells you she is seriously in need of much care.
I notice that her mother parks in the same place, every day - on the far side of the parking lot, not near any traffic and on an end space. She parks there because it takes them longer to get into the car than most of us, who are just trying to run out of the school. She parks there to be able to take her time getting the child out of the chair, safely in the seat and then, slowly, unload the wheelchair and equipment to the back of the truck.
What make me cry, when I watch this, is not just the obvious sympathy I have for this family... it is the fact that , as she is walking from the building to the lot, the mother is bent over the chair kissing and speaking softly or singing to her daughter.
Sometimes, I've been close enough to hear what she is saying... "How much do I love my baby?" or singing 'You are my sunshine' quietly in the ear of the child, who (by the way) is all smiles. This mother's love is obvious and endearing. She is a true inspiration.
The vision is enough to make even the hardest day melt away.
I mean, how can I be so overwhelmed with my day? At the end of each day, I have 4 healthy, beautiful, robust children... compared to HER day, could anything I have on my plate be bad?
No... I think not.
Believe it or not, I am grateful for the days when I watch the interaction between this loving mother and her handicapped daughter. I'm reminded that I may have a loud, noisy household, but how much do you think SHE would give to hear her child's voice one time?
So, I'll try to remember, today, that it is 9pm and the dinner dishes are sitting in the sink, the coffee is not made, there is a load of laundry waiting to go in the dryer, Wade is still up (after having drawn on Meredith's bed with a permanent marker), our neighbor's daughter is here for a sleepover and the three girls are teaching each other a hip hop dance and, not one, but TWO TV's are on with Hannah Montana.
Hopefully the baby, who's first tooth is sprouting will sleep all night.
But it's all good.... I know.
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