I went to the "blood store" today to give blood for some lab work. When I got there, the place was packed. Every mom who was there was there with all her kids as well. It was standing room only. The lab techs were kind and handed out stickers, all of which she gave my kids I ended up wearing. After fifteen minutes, I hear a tech say, "Ugh. The copier is broken." Five minutes later, no one was moving. It was at least six families before me and we hadn't even been checked in to the computer system.
Me. The one who guzzled an entire bottle of water so my veins would be plump for the stabbing. Me. Whose little Erin decided this crowded dance floor was the perfect place to spin around with her blanky. Three separate times in fifteen minutes, I pulled Erin close to me to say, "Look in my eyes. It's not ok to spin here. There are too many people." I started to stress slightly at the young couple whose infant was in his carrier, just steps from Erin's moves. All this within thirty minutes of the littles' lunch time.
I knew what had to be done. I crossed my name off the waiting list and rounded up the kids. We walked out. My kids happy to be on the move again in sunshine. And me, wearing stickers all over my pants. Regretting the bottle I guzzled in light of the library video return I had to make on the way home.
Lanie says from the back seat, "Mom, that truck says Budweiser."
My little reader.
Come home to find an email from a friend who commented that kids provide perspective and joy. Thank you, friend, for that. Because they do: A sunshiney, spinning, sticky stickering, face hiding, blanky toting, truck reading, dramatizing, huggable, kissable, lovely, loving, chocolatey delicious perspective.