This morning as I dropped my daughter off at daycare we walked past a woman dropping off a girl in front of the school. Just as we were walking past I heard her yell “Whatever. F*** you.” It was so strange. That a young girl should start her day like that is heartbreaking to me. Of course, I don’t know what took place before that moment—I don’t know what spurred her angry words. I gave Cali an extra hug before I left and said “I love you” enough times that she was probably a little embarrassed. I couldn’t help it, though. I want my daughter to begin her day feeling loved and peaceful.
I do not look at that woman with scorn or judgment—I have a very short temper myself. I have often been frustrated enough that I snap at Cali, sometimes saying something I spend the rest of the day regretting. Like cussing when I stub my toe, there is a certain satisfaction in spitting out an angry word in my frustration. Is that what I sound like? Would another mother hear my outbursts and worry for my daughter’s emotional wellbeing?
I think that is what was most disturbing about witnessing that moment—not that the mother was so awful, but that she was probably a lot like me.
