If you were hoping to read a juicy letter in which I tear another mom a new one, then you should stop reading now. This could be an ugly letter – there were a few situations warranting an ugly letter at this splash pad today – but there are enough ugly letters from one mom to another out there in cyberspace.
This letter is to the mom of the two little girls, ages 4
and almost 2, that were sitting on the bench next to us at the Splash Pad in
Downtown Norcross this afternoon. You
had a colorful umbrella that you used to shade yourself. Your younger daughter was knocked over while
playing in the water by the same rowdy bunch that knocked my daughter over just
minutes before, and my daughter was so distraught that your “baby was crying,” she
tripped over your flip flops and skinned her knee. A comedy of errors, really. But, to you I want to say “thank you.” Even though we interacted a bit and our kids
ran around with each other, and you told me that your younger daughter was tall
for her age, we didn’t have a chance to formally introduce ourselves and our
kids to each other … So, Hi. I’m
Mallory, and my 2 year old twins’ names are Parker and Reagan. Parker has the Vertebral, Anal, Renal and Limb
physical anomalies associated with VACTERL Association – he had 4 surgeries in
the first 4 months of life, and is a freakin’ rock star. I’m sure you noticed his feet look like this:
What you don’t know is that we went to the same splash pad
last week in my daily attempt to wear the bejesus out of my sweet rascals in
order to get a good nap out of them. There
were a few older kids playing in the water while we were there, but Parker and
Reagan didn’t seem to notice anyone else but each other, me, and a few other
kids around their age. They ran in and
out of the water while I sat on the bench and watched (much like today), and
they had a blast. While playing, a few of the older kids kept
running out of the water to look at Parker and Reagan, run back in and talk to each
other, and then run back out. They finally
stopped close to Parker and pointed at his feet and started laughing. To say that my momma-bear hackles started rising
would be an understatement. It took
everything in me not to march over to them and give them a piece of my mind …
but I quickly remembered (thank you, Lord) that my reactions will shape the way
that Parker reacts to this same situation later in life. So I stayed in my seated position and glared until
these bullies noticed that I was the mother of that little boy and that my facial
expression was warning them that they better back off. And they did.
And they didn’t come near my kids again.
I internally obsessed over this all day, speculating and worrying about
how hard things will be for Parker when he goes to school – and, of course,
none of these fears were new, just now refreshed because I had just witnessed the
heckling first-hand.
Our friends and family that know us and love us don’t think
twice about Parker’s foot. My favorite
conversation about Parker’s foot went like this: My nephew, who will be 3 at
the end of June, asked me so simply and innocently a few months ago, “Parker
only has one foot?” “No buddy, he has two
feet, just only one toe on his right foot.”
“Oh ok. Can I have a snack?” And that was it. The question wasn’t out of malice, it was
plain curiosity. And I know that
EVERYONE that has laid eyes on Parker’s foot has wondered what happened or why
his foot formed that way – and that is not offensive to me. I would wonder, too. (I do
wonder since the cause for VACTERL Association is still not known).
Parker has just now started to notice that his feet are
different from one another. When he
holds onto his right toe, he says, “BIG toe!”
And it makes me want to eat his face.
Anyways, I noticed that your older daughter was pointing at
Parker’s foot today and was asking you what happened. Again, not at all offensive since it was pure
curiosity. It was your reaction that
moved me to tears – good tears. You
first gently reminded her not to point (and were maybe hoping to drop the
subject? J),
but as all children her age would, she asked again because she needed an answer. I couldn’t hear everything you said, but I
heard something like, “He was born that way, honey.” A few minutes later, I heard her ask you
something about his foot again, and the only thing I heard that time was, “We
are all born different – some people have brown hair, some people have blonde…” And that was all I heard. It was all I had to hear to be moved to tears.
Thank you for teaching your daughter about differences in
such a gentle and loving way. Any mother
of any child that appears different than the “norm” would be so moved by your reaction
and words today. And thank you for not
making it a big deal, and for still playing with my kids and for smiling at
them in a sweet way. After our
experience at the same park last week, I really needed an interaction like that
today to restore my faith in parenting and in humanity.
I am not sure if you live in Norcross, or if you even live
in Georgia – you may have been visiting from out of town – but if this letter
finds you, please feel free to contact me.
I would love to thank you in person and have our kiddos play together!
