Farmer’s Market

It happened, and then it was over.

There was nothing much to talk about, and I have mostly forgotten the details. The images are somehow fuzzy, remembered in strange slow motion, as if I am still distracted, surprised that I am in the center of the memory, rather than standing on the side, looking in.

It was a cloudy gray Sunday, late morning. I was in my Super-Mom role; my husband was at the library drinking coffee and reading educational philosophy (on Sundays, he assumes his Super-PhD-Man role), and I was in the park, with our three kids, and my cousin’s two daughters. When my cousin dropped off his girls, his nine year old ran off with my three year old, who promptly fell and skinned her knee and started crying; his seven year old ran off with my six year old, who fell off her scooter and started crying; and the baby started screaming for the swing. My cousin gave me a look. I smiled my Super-Mom smile, answering his unspoken ‘are you sure you can handle this’ question, told my girls to tough it out, and carried the baby over to the swing. And I was fine, and so were the kids, as long as I didn’t think too much about what could happen. I let the girls climb and swing high and jump off and pushed the “what-ifs” aside, because otherwise my husband couldn’t ever work on his PhD, and my cousin’s kids couldn’t slip seamlessly into our family, and that wasn’t the family I wanted.

4 comments on “Farmer’s Market

  1. jessica @peekababy on

    Motherhood is a constant swirling vortex of ignoring and giving into “What ifs”, isn’t it? There’s a whole other blog post in why on earth that woman wasn’t able to find enough composure to offer up at least a basic thank you for saving her daughter. Sheesh.

  2. Sarah on

    Your comment about nobody else stepping in is really interesting to me. Do you think people didn’t notice? or do they just freeze or not know what to do? I had a similar experience when 6 months pregnant, except it was me who was choking and my husband trying to do the Heimlich while shouting for help in a very crowded room. As I stood there not able to breath and thinking very fast, all I could see was the people moving away and then looking at us. Luckily the taffy finally dislodged on the fourth or fifth attempt and once I was clearly okay, then a couple of people came over to help. The experience convinced me to take a first aid class, but I still wonder whether I’ll be able to do as you did and jump in to help or just freeze like so many others.

  3. mick on

    if I understand your blog correctly, you’re basically saying that you can watch my kids for the day too when you come in in a few weeks…right? I promise to thank you profusely 😉

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