All it takes is One person…

I want to share a story. A story about hardship. A story about a mother’s sorrow and determination. A story about society’s unwillingness to help and support others. But most of all a story of hope.

This story is about a young boy at the grocery store. A young boy trying to work with the world when it does not follow the expected pattern. A young boy who enjoys going to the grocery store. Who picks out things that he wants and places them in the shopping cart. Who usually picks up the same things each time. But this story is different from most of our shopping trips.

The day begins with picking up Z at his respite program. He’s acting oddly – scripting, clapping and throwing his hands in the air. This doesn’t derail me from my original plan of stopping at the grocery store on the way home. He loves the store, loves to pick out his favorite items, he’ll be fine. We pull up to Sprouts and he starts whining. This also does not derail me. In hindsight I should have dropped him off at home and returned to the store alone. You see, being flexible is a requirement for a special needs parent. And sometimes I forget this (or choose to ignore it). So in my mind I am telling myself that he is just confused about where we are at and once we are inside he will snap out of it and have a good time. For those following this blog, I am sure you are screaming at me to watch the signals and change my plan. I know, I know… Hindsight my friends…

We go inside and he starts selecting items from the shelves but is mad about it. I ignore all of this (yes, I know…) and keep powering through. Eventually, he seems to calm down. That is, until we get near the spot where his spicy chicken tenders should have been. That’s right folks… Should.. Have.. Been.. They DID NOT have the chicken today!

So obviously he starts freaking out. His pattern is disrupted. The concept of items being there one moment and not the next is difficult for him. A change in the routine is going to take us many steps backwards. At this point, I know where I went wrong. I know that whatever he was feeling in the car before coming in is going to be amplified. So I quickly try and divert his attention and hopefully get out of the store ASAP. I move him quickly away from the missing chicken saying it’s not there today. We will have to wait until next time. All with a smile plastered on my face to disguise the fear and anxiety that is building inside me. We make it to the checkout and I think we are past it…

But if that was all it was then this would not be worthy of a blog post. Nothing new about a mom making the wrong decision! You know there is more to this story… So we get to the checkout line and it is packed (like, 30 people) and there are only 3 cashiers. We get in line, Z is cool, I turn my back for a second moving the cart and I hear someone far that sounds like Z yelling. How odd, I think to myself, that sounds like Z. But he is with me, it can’t be him… I turn around and he’s gone… Gone!

I ditch my cart and run in the direction of the yelling. I find him at that freaking chicken again! I pull him away saying he needs to stay with me and he can’t get that chicken today. I get back to my cart and move my cart closer (yep, no one moved it for me). Z starts melting down. Hitting himself, hitting the cart, yelling. I have both his hands in mine and am trying to talk him down. I feel all 30 sets of eyes on me. I don’t look at any of them. That will just break me and I am doing my best to hold everything together.

I need to load my groceries on the conveyor belt but have to do this one-handed so I can hold Z in place and stop him from hitting. It is taking forever. Forever… All eyes are still on me. The old man with only a few items behind me is getting irritated. I am sweating at this point and fighting the tears. Still going to hold it together though, folks. That’s what we do. Hold it together and everything will turn out fine..

All of a sudden this tall lanky teenager comes over and simply says “let me help” and he finishes loading my cart for me. I thank him, totally embarrassed and he acts like no big deal and walks back to his family. I pay and finish up with all those eyes still on me and holding onto Z the whole time. We make it to the car, I buckle him in, and load the groceries in the back. The whole time I am looking around for this teenager and his family but never see them. I get in the car and break down in ugly sobbing tears.

First, let’s talk about these 30 people. I know at some point during the episode they all saw what was going on (it would be hard not to). I know that some watched me the ENTIRE time, without lifting a finger like we were the latest hit show on TV. I’m sure someone pulled out their phone and recorded. I know that a small portion of them even made eye contact with me at some point and were just empty of emotion. I know some looked at me like everything was my fault and why could I not control this child? I know that some were thinking he needed to be institutionalized.

I also know there was another layer in the crowd. I know there were some that just didn’t know what to do. If they offered help, would I take it or would I take offense to their pity? What if they came close and Z hit them? Yes, I am sure some were afraid of him. I know some had their own problems and just didn’t have the time or energy to get involved in mine.

But with all of this, it took one teenager to step up. To show that humanity still exists. To show compassion. To change the world..

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