Losing it

Today, I had to brave WalMart with all three animals in tow. Normally, I wouldn't, but the husband is out of town and being out of milk and bread I didn't really have much choice. Middle Child, as you may know, is autistic, and has been getting increasingly difficult as time goes on, particularly in public places. Well, today he was in rare form, and he broke away from me and ran about 10 feet before I caught him.


As luck would have it, there was a guy in crutches standing in the 10 items or less line who got bumped as Middle Child ran by. It wasn't anything that would have knocked the guy over, but enough to be annoying to someone who is already off balance. I had my mouth open to give the obligatory, "Oh my GOD I'm so sorry" apology that I am used to giving when my son misbehaves, but before I could get there, he had a few words of his own.


"WHAT THE FUCK! FUCKING LITTLE BASTARD..." He and his mother glared at me before turning back to the line.


I was absolutely stunned. I've had people be less than understanding in such a situation before, but never to the level of swearing at my child. I must have turned beet red because I could practically feel the steam coming out of my ears.


K: "EXCUSE ME?"


Nothing.


K: "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO MY SON?"

The mother turns around.


M: "He just bumped my son! He's on crutches!"
K: "I saw that, and I apologize, but tell your son to watch his mouth."
M: "Then maybe you should control your brats."


This was the point at which I absolutely lost it. I knew the day would come that I would have it out with a stranger over my son's disability, but I really didn't think this would be that day.


K: "It was an ACCIDENT. I've apologized."
M: "An ACCIDENT? They're running through the store like maniacs!"
K: "There is NO EXCUSE for you people to talk like that in front of MY small children."
M: "CONTROL YOUR BRATS, LADY."
K: "MY SON IS AUTISTIC, YOU JERK. Do you have ANYTHING ELSE you'd like to say???"


[silence]


K: "Yeah, I didn't think so."

[more silence]


K: "Perhaps if you'd given me a chance to apologize and explain before calling my child a vulgar name, you would have known that."

M: [under her breath] "Then perhaps you shouldn't take him out in public."


I had to walk away at that point. If I'd hung around any longer, she would have been on the floor bleeding.


I stood in a line far away from Mrs. Bitch and her demon spawn, one hand on Middle Child (who was pitching quite a fit), and the other on the cart, trying to check out calmly as about a hundred people stared at me. Some had that, "You poor thing..." look on their faces, and others just shook their heads at my apparent inability to control my brats. As any special needs parent will tell you, this is the kind of moment that nightmares are made of. I finally got to the car, ushered the kids in, and took a moment to breathe as Middle Child screamed in the back seat.


Out of nowhere, this lady walked up to me.


"I just wanted to say that I have 2 children of my own who are autistic, and I know what you're going through. Those people were heartless and cruel, and you handled it the best you could."


Right there, in the parking lot in front of WalMart, I burst into tears in front of a perfect stranger.


Anyone who knows me well would tell you that this just isn't something that I would ever do. I am not hyper emotional in public. I do not make scenes, and will generally be the first to knock those who do. I avoid drama and conflict with other people whenever I can. I've even been complimented on my level of calm by strangers who have observed me quietly dealing with one of my fit-throwing children. It took some gimpy asshole in a WalMart for me to push aside that level of calm that I work so hard to maintain.


I didn't get this lady's name, but her taking a few minutes to talk to me and tell me that I wasn't a raving maniac was one of the kindest and most generous things another human being has ever done for me. It was as if she was sent specifically to keep me from losing it altogether. An experience like that isn't something that you can bitch to your girlfriends about over coffee; only someone who's been through it can truly understand what you're feeling, and can offer words that actually make you feel like you're not crazy.


So here I sit, still shaking, going over my actions in my mind, wondering what I could have (or should have) done differently. Perhaps I should have ignored the enormous asshole who was swearing at my son, and walked away. Maybe I should have done without the damned milk and not gone to WalMart at all. I don't have the answers. All I know for sure is that this won't be the last time something like that happens, and knowing that is what is making me want to throw up right now.