Sunday, November 23, 2008
I was in Walmart two days ago selecting fabric for the kitties. I'm making them little tush pads. Yes, I do stuff like that. There was a little girl crying in the next isle and I just wanted to hug her because her demand was really quite simple. She just wanted to get out of the cart and look around, but her mother was cruel and said, before smacking her, "If you don't shut up I'll beat you right here." It took less than a second to get to the next isle. Those of you who know me know I would come to a childs rescue in an instant. I informed the mother that if I heard that again I'd call 911. She told me to "f*** o**." I informed her she wasn't allowed to disrespect me like she did her child because all I had to do was dial three simple numbers and she could give her sob story to a cop. She looked at me a good long time, as if to say "get out of my face." I didn't move. I want to know why a child is hit to stop him or her from crying. Like that is a logical solution. I looked at that beautiful child and knew she understood why I was there. I told the mother before leaving "You don't deserve your daughter." And I meant it. I wasn't blessed with children and often wonder why idiots are. If she speaks to her daughter like that in public, what does she do at home. It made me sick.
I'm writing this because on the way to the park this morning I was feeling a bit low. I'm very sore from my tripping accident yesterday. I look like crap. I feel like crap. And every hour something new hurts. I thought about what it must be like to be a battered woman or child. How it must hurt like this all the time. I'm going to trip over my cat probably once in my life and feel this way, but abused children and women deal with these sorts of bruises, cuts, aches and pains on a constant basis. My heart just broke for them. My pain will go away in a few days and be a distant, funny memory, but how many abused woman and children can say that?
Why am I writing this? I don't know. Perhaps because people who say they love you can often hurt you and I wonder why. Being all battered and bruised from a careless kitty accident helped me feel the pain of people who are suffering in ways I can only imagine. I'm a lucky woman. I have a good life and even if I'm left with scars from my fall, that's all I'll be left with...a big old chuck out of my forehead and a nice little reminder above my lip. I'm lucky because I don't have to deal with stupid stuff. I think about that child and hope she grows up to be a strong woman despite being abused by her mother. And yes, she is an abusive mother and yes, that is my definition of abuse. I dearly hope that before that woman hits her daughter again, she sees my face and stops.
P.S. I know that a number of my blogging friends with children believe in corporal punishment, but know I don't, so your take on my lovely meeting with my Walmart friend is probably different. Please feel free to express yourself. I promise not to be harsh or judgemental. This was a valuable lesson for me and I'm willing to lean more. I love learning. For instance, I learned that dirt tastes like, well...dirt!