Kid Leash Part 2

Since they first came out, I have hated mini-vans. I think they are hideous and look like rats. I'm sorry if you drive one. A mini-van is also a sure sign of a distracted driver, so I like to steer clear of them on the highway. I hate them and mock them every chance I get.

It's the same with kids on a leash. Who is such a bad parent that they can't hold their kid's hand and prevent them from running in the street? Kids are not dogs. It's medieval, barbaric, and shameful.

Claire wore one again yesterday. My fear is that the next step to my loss of self-respect is the purchase of a mini-van.

We rode the TRE to downtown Dallas with Adam's mom and Morgan. I carried Paul in the Baby Bjorn again so I wouldn't have to mess with pushing a stroller and parking it on the train. As soon as we got off the train, Claire started fidgeting and getting cranky. "I don't want to hold your hand!" she yelled at me. She actually requested the leash. I was horrified but complied. It kept her from running in the street, so I'm glad we had it.

Some pre-teen boys passed us and were obviously talking about Claire. I was mortified and confronted them. "Yes," I said. "I know it's awful. She is on a leash. I have to keep her out of the street." Their mom graciously came up to me and said, "Hey, whatever works. You have to keep your kid safe. It's actually pretty cute."

The whole day I pitied myself for getting to the point that I had to leash up my child. I don't think I was very pleasant. (Add more shame to my self-pity when Claire pulled the fire alarm in an elevator. Luckily I cancelled it.)

On the train ride home, I was wallowing in self-pity and exhaustion. (Carrying a 23-lb. child on the front of your chest and a loaded backpack on your back really wears you out.) Then another mother got on the train who obviously deserved my pity more. She had three kids, one of whom was suffering from extreme allergies, with puffy eyes and a runny nose. One kid, who was Claire's age, was wearing pajamas, and her third kid was strapped in her overloaded double-stroller. She looked homeless and exhausted.

I offered her my water, wipes, diapers, hand sanitizer, crackers, cookies, and everything else I had been whining about that was weighing down my backpack. She accepted immediately and her kids started eating everything I had given them. They were obviously hungry. She told me that they had been homeless for a long time, but just a week ago got an apartment. I told her I was proud of her. We commiserated mom-to-mom.

And then I felt better. My backpack and heart was lighter. Who cares if I have to put my kid on a leash at the zoo or downtown Dallas? She's safe. We have a home, food, and friends. That's the important part. And even if I'm forced to drive a mini-van someday, I will try to remember what's important and thank God for my vehicle.