Being Invited back
Earlier this week, we celebrated the retirement of a wonderful woman who had dedicated her professional life to working with kids. I first met her as a new mom, but once I began working in my current position, I was honored to call her my colleague. On the day of her retirement party, we were encouraged to share any story/experience we had about her during her tenure as Director of Childcare. Naturally, my story came to me in the middle of the night…after her party. But it’s too good not to share.
Back in the summer of 2014, I had a 3 1/2 year old (Emmett) and a newborn (Eli). I stumbled across the beauty of a Kids Day Out program at our church, and instantly enrolled Emmett. He was all too familiar with his surroundings, as he had attended the school-year program earlier in the year. The one requirement for the summer program was that he had to be potty-trained. Luckily, he had decided a few weeks prior that he was ready to ditch the diapers, so he was all set to go.
That first day was amazing. I dropped him off in the morning without incident and set about my day. I had five hours, and you can bet, I was going to use every minute. It was a glorious day of errands and house cleaning (oh, who am I kidding…I took a nap), not to mention, a sleeping newborn. So when I arrived at the end of the day with my newborn in tow, I was refreshed and ready for my tired toddler. As I rounded the corner near the childcare office, a smell hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a smell only a mother recognizes, and all I could think was “Whoa, somebody had a blow out. I sure feel sorry for whoever has to clean that up!” I went about my merry way, and as I approached Emmett’s classroom, I noticed the smell had not diminished, but had actually grown stronger. It was if I was walking into the pit of it. I peered through the door and saw Emmett’s teacher staring into the bathroom with a look of horror and disgust. I entered the room and she turned to me with her unchanging face and said “I don’t know what to do!” I sat the car seat containing my newborn on the table, took a deep breath (well, not too deep - I needed to remain conscious) and looked into the bathroom. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, naked from the bottom down, covered with poo from head to toe was my sweet, smiling Emmett. He took one look at me and said “Hi, Mommy!” I’m not going to lie, there was a part of me that wanted to say to him “I’m not your Mommy. I’ve never seen you before.” Instead, after a bit of dry heaving, I did what any rational parent would do in this situation and rapid-fired questions: “What is this? What are you doing? What is going on?!?!?”, which prompted him to run to me, slip-sliding all the way. Was this my worst nightmare? Yes. Yes, it was.
After collecting myself and what little dignity I had left, I looked around the bathroom for the first time. It looked like a crime scene. Not only was he covered in poo, but there were shoeprints all over the floor, toilet paper in the sink and toilet, and clothes so dirty they could only be incinerated. I stripped him down, stuffed everything in a bag, used 200 billion paper towels to clean both him and the floor, dressed him in another pair of clothes (THIS is why you send another set of clothes), picked up my newborn and walked out of the room. I was either heading to the bar or the adoption agency. I was still deciding.
So when the childcare director met me in the hallway, I knew what was coming next. We were being kicked out. I was going to get lectured about how I failed potty-training 101 and what a disaster my kid was. We were going to be banned for life all because my kid couldn’t poop in the toilet. Would this be on his permanent record? Do they have permanent records in kids day out? All of these thoughts were flooding through my mind as she placed her hand on my shoulder and said “It happens. Don’t worry about it. We’ll see you next week.” You guys…she invited us BACK. I would have locked the doors after we left, but this kind, sweet woman told us to come back the following week. And better yet, she had seen this sort of thing before (Ok, maybe not to this extent, but something similar). I was normal…my kid was normal…WE WERE NORMAL! And we were welcome to come back.
There is nothing more comforting than someone accepting you at your messiest (quite literally me), lowest, most desperate moment. There have been times in my life where the doors truly have been locked on my way out, which is why this time stands out so strongly in my memories. She could have easily shut me out, stomped on my already bruised dignity and made me an outlier in a group I so desperately needed. Instead, she opened her arms wider, embraced all of my vulnerabilities and invited me to stay inside the circle. I will never forget that moment or how she made me feel. Even on my messiest day, I was still deserving. All because this kind hearted woman, with her sweet calming voice…invited me back.
