Tetyana Denford - 30 Mar 16
“Oh wow…. that child is going a bit mental, isn’t he?”, the woman says, as she sips her coffee at a table she’s sharing with another mum friend at an indoor play centre. “Yeah. We’ve *all* been there”, her friend says, and they both cock their heads sympathetically, watching a young mother 20 feet away from them struggling with her clearly possessed 6-year old.
I was there. I was witnessing an epic, unholy tantrum unfold in front of me. The room was echoing with this child’s screeches (honestly, he sounded like a spider monkey). He was throwing toys, flailing his arms like he was drowning. Flopping around on the floor, moaning, walking around the room raging at the unfairness of his life for whatever reason that day.
The indoor play centre that I was working at that morning is small. Room for roughly 36 adults. Every table was full, which meant that that morning, the play centre was full to the brim with kids aged 1 to 8. And although it was busy, this tantrumming kid managed to out-noise that entire space, which meant that every table of adults was watching this scene at one point or another. 36 pairs of eyes casually looking at the Shakespearean tragedy playing out whilst sipping their capuccinos and reading about Alexa Chung’s dungarees in Grazia magazine.
Now, this mother, to her credit, was managing not to shout at her kid (which, I’ll be honest, I would’ve resorted to about 20 seconds into the episode). She was gritting her teeth, trying to reason with him, being steely-eyed and stern but patient and in control. She was a total hero.
He wasn’t letting up, so she said to him that they were going home because he was embarrassing her. Well. That sent him into another dimension of Mental. He threw himself onto the floor like he was trying to melt himself into it and started screaming “NO NO NO NO” nonstop for about 2 minutes (very impressive). She knelt down and proceeded to try and dress him in his coat and shoes (brave move, man. I would’ve just shoved him under my arm, and ran for the nearest opening.). He was kicking her, punching her, and she was persevering with a firm hand and a voice that gradually got more and more raised, to make sure that he knew that SHE WAS IN CHARGE and that AIN’T NO ONE GOT TIME FOR THIS BULLSH*T.
Oh, and to top it all off, she had another child, about 3, ready and waiting (understandably petrified) to go home. She had two kids with her, but on that day, it probably felt like 15.
She stood up, threw her belongings onto her arms and back like a packhorse, and her face looked drained. Those 10 minutes probably felt like 10 years.
I felt really bad for her. I’ve been there, totally, we all have. But I wanted to do something, I wanted to help. But how? I walked over to her, and put my arm around her shoulder. She looked at me (probably thinking do I know you? I don’t know you. you’re being weird and invading my personal space, you crazy American lady.). And I said the first thing that came into my head, and something that I would’ve wanted to hear when I’ve had moments of sheer ridiculousness as a mother:
“Hey. It’s okay. You’re doing great, even if it feels like a crazy circus.”
She let out a sigh. She looked up at me, and her eyes welled up.
“It’s so embarrassing, and I am losing my rag today. I feel like everyone’s watching me. But thank you, I really needed to hear that. Thank you.” and she looked at me and crooked-smiled in that way that only mothers can, when they reach the end of their rope and want to shout WHO THE HELL CONVINCED ME TO DO THIS WITH MY LIFE?! I COULD BE SHOE SHOPPING AND HAVING A COCKTAIL ON A BEACH SOMEWHERE WITH A BRAZILIAN UNDERWEAR MODEL!
In that split second, she and I (who are complete strangers) connected as mothers. As humans. It was the coolest little moment.
And as I watched her leave, I saw her face change. It looked capable and her anger and embarrassment were diffused. I’m not sure for how long, because her day could’ve exploded again. But maybe for a short while, she felt herself exhale a bit.
To be clear, this article is not about me doing a good deed. I wanted to share that I saw and felt something extraordinary in a completely ordinary moment. And the “thing” that made it extraordinary was empathy. We all have moments where we sympathise with mothers and their struggles, because we all experience similar things when it comes to being pregnant, losing babies, having babies, raising humans, feeding them, disciplining them, and trying not to lose our marbles and become alcoholics whilst doing all of the above. And sometimes it’s not always happy and cheery. Sometimes it’s shouty and sweary and our anger and frustration is taken out on our kids, our partner, our house plants, our auto-correct. It’s normal, it’s human.
Empathy is a cool trick, though. With empathy, you can dig deeper. You go in, really in, and see if someone needs a hug, or reassurance or support, or a guurrrrl, you got this. Granted, some people find that an invasion of their personal space and that’s absolutely fair enough and this isn’t something that works for everyone. But if someone is struggling, and you gauge that you can help and you try an empathic gesture (a joke, a smile, a hug, buying that person coffee), an amazing thing happens. You connect on this new level. You diffuse the anger and frustration. You take the tension away from a situation and make it manageable. We can empower each other in the face of Total Toddler Devastation.
To me, in that moment, there was this positive affirmation that made me realise this community of mothers is here to support each other and share in the total craziness of trying to keep these human beings alive and raising them to be good-hearted people. We are all on the same page, doing the same job, been there, done that, have the t-shirt.
I felt a high-five from the sisterhood that morning, and it was awesome. More of that, please, world.
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Tetyana is a Ukrainian-American mum of three, married to an Englishman, living in NY. She's written for Elle and Vogue magazines, and her first novel 'Motherland' is available at Amazon. She hosts a YouTube show called The Craft and Business of Books, translates for Frontline PBS news, and writes freelance.
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