Scared Eyes.

I saw a little girl Nonie's age today, left in her daddy's BMW wagon while he ran into a CVS for milk.

I was walking out of work and I saw her little head in her car seat and noticed her eyes looking quite scared. Did she think I was going to steal her?

I walked past her car and smiled the warmest, sweetest, motherest smile I could muster and through my curved mouth I wanted her to see that I was telling her that she would be okay.

Then, I waited (by my car) while her dad scurried from CVS (which has no windows so he definitely couldn't see her while he was in there) with a gallon of milk. He hopped in the car and he handed her a lollipop.

She was scared. She was clearly scared while he had left her. And was relieved that he was now back.

Before he got in the car, he made eye contact with me and by the look in his eye, I knew, that he knew, that he had done a bad, bad thing.

I should've said something to him.

I should've said nothing to him.

I should've said something to him.

What I wanted to do was ask for his wife's phone number. Because if she had just witnessed the fact that her baby was left in the car in a vast parking lot all by herself while her husband ran in for milk - she'd have killed him when he got home.

But maybe he'd just lost his wife in a car accident.

Or maybe his wife had just left him for another man.

Or maybe the mother was curled up beneath the back seat hiding from daddy - in a fun and friendly parking lot game - and the baby wasn't left by herself after all - and I'd be the foolish bystander passing judgement on things I know very little about.

Maybe.

But probably not.

So that is why I waited by my car until her daddy returned to her.

***

Why does the world test me everywhere I look and every time I turn around?

Would this milk-in-one-hand Dad have responded to me: "I know my baby"

Just as I'd shouted from the hilltops in my post below?

Who knows.

***

All I do know is that I can still see her scared eyes in my head as I type.

hoarding tuna and getting caught

If you know me
then you know I would never
hoard tuna.
Ever.

But I know someone who does.
And now I know that I will never
ever
ever
be a tunahoarder.

I went into THE,
I am not yet able to call it MY,
classroom today.

Was I overwhelmed by the amount of stuff still in it?
Yes.
Did I want to move things around and mark my spot in there - so to speak -
Yes.
But I got sidetracked by a full desk.

I suppose, in retrospect, I feel guilty for all of the things I recycled and threw away.
At the time, though, it was amazing.

The previous teacher chose to leave her desk completely full.
And I mean COMPLETELY.
There were trays of pushpins, mounds of pens, bags of rubberbands.
Bags of rubberbands?
Have I stumbled upon some unknown secret of teaching,
that requires you to have five massive ziplocs overflowing with rubberbands?

Oh did I purge.
And then,
I purged some more.

I had the thought that mom would be a little disappointed in me for all the things I was tossing away.
Because once when I as a bit younger and say not-as-wise I was walking with her and saw a penny head down and didn't pick it up because that's bad luck.
And she made me pick it up.
Cross my heart.
Let no penny go wasted.

But oh!
The things I threw away.
I stumbled upon the food drawer and had myself a bit of a gag when I spotted
this


and this.


Hoarding tuna.
And Salisbury steak.

For some strange reason,
I packed her up the tuna in a tub that previously homed children's books.
But the steak had to go.
It expired over a year ago.
Room temperature Salisbury steak stored in a desk drawer for over a year?
You're welcome lady.

I was just having a laugh with the assistant principal about the tuna,
and the bag of communion hosts I had found...

(sidenote a: he tried the hosts to see if they were stale)
(sidenote b: what is more sacrilegious: shoving a bag of communion hosts in your desk, eating one of those hosts as if it were a potato chip, or writing a post like this)
(sidenote c: they weren't stale)

...
when she walked in
and said
"I was just coming to clean out my desk".

I looked from her to the overflowing recycling bin,
to her,
to the garbage.

Where her steak lay under a pile of ice cream scoops.

I said something about it being hot.
And just as quickly as she appeared,
I was gone.