I was one of those moms today.  One of those moms that stands in line begrudgingly behind another member of her species and

…judges.

She was the kind of mom that had too much on her plate today.  A frazzled mother of four:  a teenage girl put in charge of wrangling the pre-teen be-freckled son (whose loudness & bickering made up for his lack of brothers), a jolly toddler & an unhappy red-headed infant.  Struggling to keep them under rein while she shopped for cleaning supplies, shoes, outfits.

I met up with the team several times throughout our spins around the retail floor and each encounter left me exhausted at the sight.  Her frazzle rubbed off on me.  Ella’s eyes widened every time we came near.

Finally we had our farewell meeting at the checkout line.  The only checkout line open.  At that point I decided it best not to watch, but to review my items for purchase and add up the total again in my head for the fifth time.  I gave Ella her sippy of water and we waited patiently.  I could feel the heat and frustration of the shopper behind me as she watched over my shoulder.

The mother’s card was not accepted.  She tried again.  She reached past her screaming baby for her checkbook.  Pre-teen still kicking teenager.  Toddler still sneakily jaunting toward the sliding door.

Truth is, I was that mom just a few days ago, and I am a mother of one.  A tiny one at that.  You may have seen me…a red-faced shopper, sweeping through Target, lost and searching for teething tablets.  An upset and grunting Ella (having been denied a storybook) in the crook of my arm, opposite hand violently maneuvering her stroller while trying to keep hold of our little red basket.

An employee passes by and merrily spits, “Looks like someone could use an extra hand!”

Really.  She follows me down the aisle as my face grows redder.  I stop off at the baby swimwear and pluck at the price tag, hoping to look supremely distracted from her one-sided conversation.  I place Ella back in her seat, hoping against an outburst.  I am weary, my nerves are fried, our shopping trip is over and unsuccessful.  I was that mom a few days ago.

I had no right to judge today.

I have learned – sometimes mothers and their children have those outings, those days.  I suppose we all learn to deal with them and accept that they will happen again.  And when we see those mothers, just at their wits’ ends, ready to fall into bed and weep, we empathize.

Tonight, I empathize.

photo from here.