Kindness of a stranger

Has someone ever been kind to you for no good reason? It doesn't happen all the time but it did this one particular time and I've never forgotten.

I was in university and was invited to spend the weekend with a new crowd of people I'd just met. Actually I was sort of dating the guy who owned the house hosting the weekend gathering.

I didn't want to go.

The people in this crowd were several years older than me, seemed sophisticated beyond belief, had established careers and I felt completely out of place among them. While they discussed ensuites and time shares, I was wondering if I should pay the phone bill or spend the money on a new bus pass.
Everything about me screamed I was a struggling student from my thrift store clothes, to my worn out Doc Martens. I was working two jobs, living in a one bedroom basement apartment, just barely scraping by while finishing up my thesis and looking forward to graduating.

Since he lived out of town, knew I didn't have a vehicle, Ben (the guy hosting the get-together and who I was sort of dating) organized for me to ride up with a couple who were also going. The husband was forgettable but the wife, Debbie, well she shines like a diamond in a ditch full of coal. I think about her often.

Throughout the weekend my discomfort increased with each new activity. I couldn't afford to buy anything when the women invited me to go shopping at a nearby outlet mall and squirmed with shame when we went out for lunch to an expensive restaurant where all I could afford was a side salad and water.

Most conversations during that two days left me dry mouthed and at a loss. I didn't have a clue about investments, or yuppy life, had never played euchre, and had absolutely nothing to contribute to a discussion about golf club memberships.

It was Debbie who eased my out-of-placeness when she could. She didn't ever come out and say that she understood how I felt but small gestures made me aware of her empathy. She showed interest in what I was studying, recalling a few stories about how difficult it had been for her to juggle part time work while she was in school herself. Once she even suggested that we take a walk when she sensed I was at the pinnacle of my discomfort. Looking back, I wish I had just confided in her.

The few dollars I had budgeted for the weekend were earmarked to give Debbie and her husband to thank them for the ride. This I did quietly just as we were about to leave to come home. When her husband suggested we stop for lunch about half way through the trip, my stomach lurched. I had absolutely no money left and was planning to eat when I got back to my tiny apartment. We stopped in front of the restaurant and Debbie got out of the car. She leaned down to move her seat up to let me out and did something I will never forget. She reached down to the floor in front of me and handed me something.

I think you dropped this Kim, it must have slipped out of your purse.

It was a twenty dollar bill.

She understood my situation and saved me the humiliation of having to explain it to them. Needless to say, the relationship between Ben and me fizzled and I never saw Debbie again.

For years, remembering the moment she handed me that money always brought me a sense of shame. However, in the last while I've found my mind wandering to it again. What a beautiful way to help me out. She could have let her ego take over and loudly refuse to take the gas money, or she could have just pretended not to notice my discomfort like the other women. I'm grateful for this experience. I know that I am changed because of it.

I've tried to google her and find her on Facebook to say thank you after all these years. But she's nowhere to be found.

This post is brought to you by Shell's Pour your heart out over at Things I can't say. I took her lead in writing about a time I felt out of place.

It sounds like I'm complaining but I'm not

I'm participating in Pour Your Heart Out Wednesday with Shell over at Things I Can't Say. In Shell's words: Write a post from the heart. Something that has been weighing on you. Something you feel passionately about.Something you've been wanting to talk about. A cause, a memory, a belief, a world view. Anything.

I'm still not sleeping. Naveen sleeps once for a three hour stretch from 8 to 11 every night. After that he's up every hour or so. I don't know how to change this so I feed him and usually end up pulling him into bed with me because I need to get a few hours if I can. Well, I was getting these precious few hours until last week when I started him on baby cereal. The changes on his digestive system at least I'm assuming that's what it is given that it's the only new variable I've added to our routine (I started with oat cereal knowing from experience that rice is constipating and then switched to barley once the oat cereal was gone) have increased his wakefulness at night so that whereas before I was able to get him back to sleep after nursing him, now he stays awake for up to another hour each time. At night, my life feels like one long torture session.

The sleeplessness is taking its toll.

I give my best self to the kids. Some kind of miracle, I can only credit to my higher power, takes over and I am mostly alert and present for their needs. We do arts and crafts, go to the park, read books and play. I stay on top of the laundry - an absolute necessity now that Deaglan goes through about six pairs of underwear and three outfits a day, and if I forget to put a bib on Naveen his shirtfronts look like he's been through a carwash from drooling. The house is clean at the end of the day most days and Deaglan almost always gets something homecooked for his meals (even if it is hotdogs or scrambled eggs).

But when Shaune gets home from work, I have nothing left. Most nights I've just finished bathing and settling two kids and I'm anxiously waiting for the baby to wake up so that I can feed him again and try to get him back to sleep and it's my only time to do something for me like have a glass of wine and watch a show.

When little people are mercilessly demanding from you all day long, your attention, your patience, your love, your body to feed them, your hands to change them, your arms to hold and hug them, your undivided attention so they won't get hurt or hurt each other, you become covetous with the few moments you can steal for yourself.

With two tired grumpy people in this house, arguments and bickering are at an all time high. We're dealing with a very busy, very energetic toddler splat in the middle of the tantrum- throwing, jealous-of-the-new-baby-so-I'll-demand-all-of -your-attention, my-energy-level-just increased-exponentially terrible two's.

Sigh. That's it. I'm done pouring my heart out.