34. Ellie
Chapter thirty-four
Ellie
“ O kay, buddy. Eggs are the last thing on the list. We’ll grab them on our way to the register. Then we’ll go home, grab some lunch, and take a little nap. What do you think?” I ask Luca as he wiggles in the child’s seat of the shopping cart.
He babbles back at me, seemingly in agreement. Luca’s vocabulary is slowly growing, but when he’s excited, he usually resorts to his two favorite words, mama and dada . The first time he called us by the right names, we celebrated with a family dance party and brownies because Dom insisted it was a milestone that demanded brownies.
After grabbing a dozen eggs, I sing softly to Luca as I push our cart to the checkout line. My mind always panics a little while I unload the cart onto the conveyor belt and Luca is sitting facing the stranger in line behind us.
I mean, I’m right here , but my anxiety never seems to take a day off. My mind races through what I’d do if a stranger ever just grabbed him and tried to make a run for it. The answer? I’d drop everything, turn into an Olympian, and I’d go fucking feral getting him back, probably ending up in jail. Thankfully, my intrusive thoughts stay in my mind and have never become reality .
The woman in line behind me clears her throat loudly as I’m unloading the cart, but I don’t pay her much attention. Then I hear, “Um, excuse me. Ma’am?”
My head shoots up to see she’s leaning on her cart, one foot propped on the bottom rack as she stares at me with one eyebrow raised. “I was trying to say you need to get that boy off the binkie.”
I stare at her for a few seconds, frozen in place, broccoli in my hand halfway to the conveyor belt because… huh ? My brain tries to make sense of what she’s saying, but all I can come up with is, again… huh ?
Luca looks at me, cooing softly from behind the binkie I gave him before I started unloading the cart to keep him chill while I check out.
Frustrated by my lack of response, she continues, “He getting too old for one. You’re setting him up for failure by coddling him. Better to just pull it cold turkey. Here, if I just take it, I’m sure he won’t mind.” She moves around her cart, approaching Luca, and I see fucking red .
Acting on impulse, I step to the side, and as gently as I can so I don’t jostle Luca in his seat, pull the cart away from her until I’m standing between her and Luca. My stomach is in my throat and I don’t recognize my voice, like my ears are plugged. My heart starts racing, and I swear I can hear its pulsing beat.
“You need to get away from my son and me, right now.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, fucking excuse you. Excuse you for inserting yourself into something that’s none of your goddamn business. If you ever get the impulse to offer unsolicited parenting advice and then take a binkie from a toddler , I strongly encourage you to seek professional help because you’ve lost your mind worse than I have.”
Her expression turns cold, her nose upturned, her hand clutching her honest to god pearls.
But I’m not done.
“Listen, lady, it’s the binkie or the tit that’ll keep him calm while I pay for my groceries. Which would you rather I pull out, ma’am ?” My voice has a bite and I let it sharpen, grateful for whatever strength has found its way forward so I can deal with this absolute asshole.
“Wow, still breastfeeding too. Unbelievable. It’s just awful, thinking you can speak to someone like that. How crass.”
“Crass?” I choke out in disbelief. What a fucking bitch.
“Is there a problem here?” a woman asks me. She appears to be in her forties and is standing alongside the teen cashier who had begun our transaction, I’m assuming his manager.
I angle my body protectively toward Luca, my eyes darting around to see people are staring at me and the mystery bitch behind me. My face heats with embarrassment and my eyes begin to burn.
“I would love to check out as quickly as possible,” I say. I do not want to be that customer. I need to get out of here without making things difficult for the employees.
“Of course,” she replies, helping to finish our transaction without another word from the asshole behind me. Thank god. Afterward, the employee walks us to the door.
“I’m so sorry,” I sputter nervously. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”
“Please, if someone said that to me when my son was that age, I would have gotten kicked out of this store. Don’t let it ruin your day, okay? You take care.” She walks back into the store, the automatic doors closing before I can thank her for being so understanding.
She seems completely unfazed by the entire interaction, but my hands are shaking. I buckle Luca into his car seat, load the groceries as quickly as possible, and then drive us home. My check engine light pops up mid-drive because of course it fucking does.
I spend the ten-minute drive ruminating over the entire exchange, my hands still shaking on the steering wheel.
I am safe. We are safe.
My feeble attempt to calm myself down fails. Anger burns again at the thought of that woman passing judgment on a complete stranger and her insane lack of boundaries. What the fuck is wrong with people?
She took one look at me and spoke as if she knew my story. She assumed I’m some terrible mother just because I’m doing things differently than she would. I’m already insecure; I sure as fuck don’t need strangers vocalizing their disapproval to me in the grocery store of all places.
What is it about being a mom that makes people think they can force their opinions on you like it’s some kind of favor, then act like you’re the unreasonable one for making your own decisions?
Sure, there are some universal truths to parenting, but I don’t think I’m wrong in thinking most of us are doing the best we can. A little bit of empathy would be nice.
My own reaction shocked me. If Luca wasn’t there and someone was being critical and confronting me about it, I’d most likely brush it off and not engage.
One step toward my son was all it took, and I finally understood “the momma bear” instinct, because I was ready to rip that woman apart.
We get home and I manage to get Luca inside and set up with his toys in his play area while I unload the groceries and get his lunch ready. I also try to flip the laundry, only to discover that I left the wet clothes in the wash and forgot about them who knows how long ago. I restart the washer and fluff the clothes in the dryer, begging my own brain to remember to flip the laundry at some point tonight to avoid having to do this same thing again tomorrow.
It’s Friday and I’m off work today. We normally grocery shop as a family on Saturday mornings, but I thought it’d be a nice surprise for Dom if we had the morning off from errands and we could spend that time together relaxing at home. That plan bit me in the ass quick.
This is the annoying part of anxiety. You have one bad experience and your brain says, See? I told you. You shouldn’t take Luca out on your own. Look what happens. I want to be able to do things on my own with my son, but one shitty interaction has the power to undo all the confidence I’m trying to build.
Luca’s getting another tooth, so he’s extra fussy during lunch today. The usual things that make him happy aren’t cutting it. He’s frustrated and I’m doing my best to hang on as we struggle through mealtime, most of the food ending up on him, the floor, and my shirt—which I just bought and is most likely now ruined by blackberry stains. Do I own clothes that aren’t stained anymore ?
After I clean up lunch, Luca and I sit in the living room playing with his toys. I can feel myself going through the motions, not totally present but not completely absent either. I smile at Luca, we sing, we play, but my head keeps tossing me back into that moment where that complete stranger made me feel like the shittiest mom in the world…all because of a stupid binkie.
I want to shake it off, but confrontation makes me anxious regardless of context. Confrontation where I feel like my son is in the middle? Fuck, I’m stuck in a destructive loop of thinking worst-case scenarios of how it all could have gone differently.
Bec must have some kind of sense for my impending mental breakdown, because at that moment I get a video chat from her, Hopper curled up into her side.
My face must say it all.
“What happened?” she asks, sitting up and causing Hopper to look alert.
I tell her everything, sounding as detached as I feel. With an emotional hurricane swirling in my chest, I’m always surprised at how I can shut it down and mask up.
Everything’s fine. We’re fine.
Still, I vent about the stranger, her judgment, and her insane idea to take a binkie out of a kid’s mouth.
“That woman has issues. You don’t just say shit like that to people, and you sure as fuck don’t take a binkie from a stranger’s baby.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t need to react like that, did I? I probably looked like the crazy one. You should have seen how many people were staring.”
“I would have stared, too, and given you a standing ovation. You can’t let some stranger’s opinion ruin your perception of yourself. You’re a wonderful mom, Ellie. And hey, at least you didn’t have Dee with you. She would have taken that binkie and shoved it up that woman’s—”
A sharp cry rings out. I was so distracted venting to Bec, that I didn’t see Luca fall. I turned my head for one second…he must have bumped his jaw on the edge of the coffee table. I drop my phone, forgetting the call with Bec completely, es pecially when I pick up Luca and discover he must have bit down hard when he fell. Blood pools on his tiny split lip.
I’m immediately crying with him. Heaving sobs escape as I let it all go. This shit show of a day just needs to end.
I rock, pat, shush, soothe, and apologize a hundred times to my son, who is incapable of forgiving me at this age.
After a couple minutes of us crying in each other’s arms, we both settle down enough for me to take him to his room. As if getting away from where he got hurt will undo the accident. We play in there for a bit before I get him ready for his nap.
I’m nursing him to sleep when another stroke of guilt hits me. The bottom of his chin is bruised from his fall. Fuck, I can’t believe I let this happen.
This day just keeps getting worse and Luca is the one paying for it.
Maybe that woman was right about me. I am a bad mother.
I sing an extra song and hold Luca a little longer before putting him down for his nap. I grab the baby monitor and plop onto my bed. I hold the screen above me as it comes to life. He looks so peaceful. Tears collect in the corner of my eye, waiting to fall.
How can so many things go wrong in an hour?
Feelings of inadequacy, shame, and guilt all crash around my mind until a notification on my phone interrupts my thoughts.
Bec: Is Luca sleeping?
Ellie: Just got him down. Sorry, I think I hung up on you. Luca fell, and I had to handle it. Call you tomorrow?
Bec: Then I won’t knock. Let me in.
Why is she here?
I open the front door, but before I can get a word out, her arms are around me, and I’m sobbing again. Every emotion I tried to bury from the day floods my cheeks.
“I didn’t say code red,” I hiccup once my tears have slowed, referring to our code we invented in middle school for get here now, I need you .
“You didn’t have to,” Bec says, gripping me tighter .
I lean against my best friend and let her try to hold me together, but I fall to pieces anyway.