Things That Make My Heart Hurt

Monday, October 10, 2011

The other day, Jack and I went to run an "errand" after work.  The "errand" may or may not have had to do with a present for Durel.  No comment.

Anyway, after our errand, it was high time for a spot of dinner out.  I considered our options for something toddler-friendly and delicious, and decided on La Madeleine.  I hadn't been there in some time, and I am still totally agog that their fat-free caesar dressing is really fat-free.



We found a table, where Jack enjoyed his kids meal, which consisted of the remarkably un-French options of cheese pizza and a chocolate chip cookie, and I enjoyed my fat-free chicken caesar salad.  We ate happily, stopping from time to time to smile at one another, and I felt my heart soar in a way that it has truly only known since I became a mother.  Fun stuff, indeed.

The table next to us was occupied with a mother and her two sons, who (though I have a hard time with this) appeared to be about ten-ish.  I thought to myself, "Oh, I can't believe Jack will be this age someday, but at least we can still have fun at La Mad!"  I thought that, that is, until I saw the way she treated her sons.

I really can't think of another way to describe it than this:  it seemed like she didn't *like* them.  She snapped at them about what they had ordered, how much they had ordered, how quickly (or slowly) they were eating, and a plethora of other things.  And, though I am the first to admit that there is no wrong quite like judging a person from their appearance, I will say that her appearance was such that I was surprised to hear her treating her sons with such disregard.  I couldn't help myself but to eavesdrop.  



They finished, and they left.  (She was in no shortage of hurry, but did take the time to berate one son for having chocolate around his mouth after dessert and ordering him to go clean up TWICE before they could leave.)  I turned to Jack and felt my heart surge again.  

I am sorry for those boys.  And I am sorry for whatever made that woman so angry, either that day, or that year, or in that lifetime.  And I pledge, to the world, and my readers, and my family, and my son, to never behave in a way that will make a stranger think that I *don't like* my family.  Shudder.  That pledge doesn't even need to be said, I think, but knowing that it's the only thing I can do to combat the way my heart hurt after seeing that dinner scene, it's what I am choosing to say.

I still can't believe it's fat-free,
Heather

2 comments:

  1. Those poor boys. I hope that they have someone in their life who makes them feel loved. What is even more sad is that someday Jack will be old enough to see a scene like that and understand that not all parents are created equal.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh how sad. Thank you for posting this. Always such a good reminder to squeeze our kids even harder.

    ReplyDelete

Monday, October 10, 2011

Things That Make My Heart Hurt

The other day, Jack and I went to run an "errand" after work.  The "errand" may or may not have had to do with a present for Durel.  No comment.

Anyway, after our errand, it was high time for a spot of dinner out.  I considered our options for something toddler-friendly and delicious, and decided on La Madeleine.  I hadn't been there in some time, and I am still totally agog that their fat-free caesar dressing is really fat-free.



We found a table, where Jack enjoyed his kids meal, which consisted of the remarkably un-French options of cheese pizza and a chocolate chip cookie, and I enjoyed my fat-free chicken caesar salad.  We ate happily, stopping from time to time to smile at one another, and I felt my heart soar in a way that it has truly only known since I became a mother.  Fun stuff, indeed.

The table next to us was occupied with a mother and her two sons, who (though I have a hard time with this) appeared to be about ten-ish.  I thought to myself, "Oh, I can't believe Jack will be this age someday, but at least we can still have fun at La Mad!"  I thought that, that is, until I saw the way she treated her sons.

I really can't think of another way to describe it than this:  it seemed like she didn't *like* them.  She snapped at them about what they had ordered, how much they had ordered, how quickly (or slowly) they were eating, and a plethora of other things.  And, though I am the first to admit that there is no wrong quite like judging a person from their appearance, I will say that her appearance was such that I was surprised to hear her treating her sons with such disregard.  I couldn't help myself but to eavesdrop.  



They finished, and they left.  (She was in no shortage of hurry, but did take the time to berate one son for having chocolate around his mouth after dessert and ordering him to go clean up TWICE before they could leave.)  I turned to Jack and felt my heart surge again.  

I am sorry for those boys.  And I am sorry for whatever made that woman so angry, either that day, or that year, or in that lifetime.  And I pledge, to the world, and my readers, and my family, and my son, to never behave in a way that will make a stranger think that I *don't like* my family.  Shudder.  That pledge doesn't even need to be said, I think, but knowing that it's the only thing I can do to combat the way my heart hurt after seeing that dinner scene, it's what I am choosing to say.

I still can't believe it's fat-free,
Heather
 
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