I watch her as she struggles with her stroller and a crying baby and a wandering toddler while she desperately tries to pick fresh corn at the market. She’s sweating in the sun.
“I’ll take 10…” she shouts it at the vendor and she’s slightly frantic. I remember that feeling. The feeling that everyone is staring and you’re ruining everyone’s day with your noisy children.
My three are around me too, helping me shuck. I wonder, “When did I go from the crazy lady with the crying babies and screaming toddlers to the Mama with three big kids, shucking and paying for corn?” Somewhere along the way, they grew. I grew.
It got easier. A lot easier.
I watch her and try to flash her a smile, as if that would help in some way. I ignore the promptings to actually put down my own golden cobs and do something constructive. Help her, rock the stroller, help her pick the corn, give her your corn, do something, Cass…