By: Sarah Lark
It was a late Saturday afternoon when my partner, James, and I decided to stop at a travel center for a quick coffee before heading home from our day out. I stayed in the car, belting out an old Whitney Houston tune, while James went inside. Suddenly, a car pulled up next to me, and an adorable girl, probably around 8 or 9, hopped out with a fluffy poodle. Moments later, a young woman, whom I assumed was her mother, followed suit. She took the poodle’s leash from her daughter, who skipped happily toward the travel center.
As I watched, the mother engaged in an animated conversation on her cell phone while walking the poodle to the far side of the building. Then, I noticed her light up a cigarette. Minutes ticked by, and I couldn’t help but think, Why isn’t she checking on her daughter? Haven’t you heard of danger?
When the girl finally emerged with a colorful slushy in hand, I exhaled with relief—until the mother handed the poodle back to her and went inside again. Is this woman out of her mind? I questioned silently. Just that week, I had heard an Amber Alert for a missing child in the area.
James returned with our coffees, and I took a sip. “Sweetheart, it could use a bit more sugar,” I said, hoping to buy some time. This little girl deserved someone to keep an eye on her while her mother was preoccupied. I turned the volume down on Whitney’s song and kept my hand on the door latch, ready to spring into action if needed.
What would make this mother think her daughter was safe in today’s often harsh world? Didn’t she see the news? But as I continued to critique her parenting, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. I once was a young mom who trusted the world too easily. The thought of someone judging me without knowing the love I had for my children made my stomach churn. I remembered a time when my husband had just left the Armed Services, and we had three kids—two boys and a baby girl—while adjusting to civilian life.
While James took a city exam at a high school, I waited in the gym with our children. A friendly woman struck up a conversation, and when my youngest son began doing the potty dance, I placed my daughter, peacefully asleep in her carrier, in the woman’s care. I hesitated but figured I’d only be gone for a moment. Just as I stepped toward the exit, I bumped into my husband.
Looking back, I often wonder how that day might have turned out if he hadn’t shown up. Thankfully, that pain is one I’ll never have to experience. But when I hear distressing news about children, I feel an overwhelming urge to protect every child I see, even contemplating a GPS tracker for them. I was a loving, intelligent mother who believed in the goodness of people. Perhaps the mother at the travel center envisioned a better world for her daughter, one where dangers didn’t lurk around every corner.
Recently, while out at our favorite restaurant, I noticed a mother with a child who had special needs. She received disapproving looks from other moms because she allowed her daughter’s hair to be wild and free. This mother likely needed a break, a moment to enjoy a meal she didn’t have to prepare. She probably thought, Forget the comb! Let’s just eat. My heart ached for her, knowing that her choices were being unfairly criticized, even though they had no impact on her child’s well-being.
Why are we so harsh on each other? Dads often get a free pass while mothers face scrutiny for every little decision. We’re all navigating this journey of motherhood together, whether we’re seasoned veterans or new to the game. Instead of casting judgment, we should offer smiles of understanding, recognizing the shared struggles we face. And when life distracts us, we can step in as a guardian angel for another mother’s child until she’s able to return to her duties.
That night at the travel center, as James walked out, I watched the young mother, her daughter, and the poodle get into their car and drive away. I whispered a heartfelt apology to her and all the other mothers I’ve judged unfairly. Then, I cranked up Whitney’s song and let it fill the car.
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In summary, it’s essential to approach motherhood with empathy and kindness, recognizing that we all have our battles. Rather than judging one another, let’s support each other in this shared journey.