What Would You Do?

If John Quinones would have been there, I’m sure I would have failed.

Scenario:

You arrive at the park for a morning of fun with your two young, impressionable girls only to step out of the van into a bombardment of profanity -- Not aimed at you, but screamed at another for the world to hear. Two individuals (a husband and wife) are under the pavilion, yards away from the playground, having it out - dropping the “F” bomb as frequently as the word *the*, mixed with a fine assortment of other colorful vulgarities. Your children race off to the slides.

What would you do?

a. immediately leave, despite the inevitable tantrum that will erupt from your kids

b. assume that the presence of other humans, especially kids, will bring awareness to the individuals and result in, at least, a quieter argument

c. ask the couple to tone it down and try to diffuse the situation

d. let the kids play – they’re oblivious anyway

Scenario Twist:

Now, what would you do if upon glancing at the couple you discover that it is a woman you know hurling all of those “F” bombs. An acquaintance. A mother of a child in your son’s class. A mother you see every day – two times a day – as you wait in line to sign your children in and out of school. And she has her other two children in tow. Children the same age as your innocent, impressionable, little girls. Children caught in the middle of the battling brigade. Children obviously bothered by the tension. Children whose presence did not yield a calmer tone or more civilized language, and neither did the presence of your own.

What would you do?

a. still get your kids the h-e-double-hockey-sticks out of there

b. risk daily embarrassment, perhaps on both sides, by asking the couple to tone it down

c. stay and try to create a diversion for the children caught in the middle – for their sakes

d. secretly hope the argument will erupt into physical violence, because then the answer would be clear

What did I do?

Well, I’m still not sure what the best response would have been. Because what I wanted to do, and what I did do were different things. And that is always difficult to look back on.

What I wanted to do originally, was option *a*. I wanted to leave as soon as I opened the car door. But I knew my kids wouldn’t go without a fight. I’m sure their screams wouldn’t have been heard over the others’ anyway, but I let them stay. I naturally believed that *b* would be a viable option. Seriously, who doesn’t stop or at least tone their arguments down in front of strangers and especially kids? Still baffled by that one. And *c*, well I probably would have had the courage for *c* if I hadn’t have been thrown off by the twist.

So, we played. I tried to keep a conversation going with my girls. Tried to drown-out the overwhelming noise behind us. Tried to plug my ears mentally. And as much as I wanted to get my kids out of there, I wanted equally as much to get their kids out as well. So when their 3-year-old walked a few yards into the grass to blow on dandelions, I seized the opportunity to invite him to play with us. His younger brother naturally followed and I felt a sense of relief. Surely this argument won’t last long. Who has the lung capacity to keep that up?

Well, apparently they do!

I tried to keep their boys occupied with slides and ladders and raining rubber chips and tunnels and peek-a-boos and airplanes and lots and lots of dandelions. But 40 minutes later, my ears and heart had had enough. I scooped my girls up and headed toward the pavilion, straight for the assailants.

The arguing stopped. I gave the mother a smile of recognition. Then I told her how darling her two little boys are. How far apart are they? Wow, only 12 months? You sure have your hands full. That’s amazing. It’s nice when they get older and can entertain each other. I love their names. Evan sure likes your little girl in class. The weather is so beautiful. Winter is always so hard. Well, I better get my kids in the car. See you later!

phew! Small talk. Small talk is wonderful.

We left. Who knows how long they continued to hash it out. All morning I couldn’t stop thinking about them. What they needed was a mediator. But I was too scared to be one. The root of their argument was actually so simple. He felt worthless as a provider because he didn’t have a job and she felt unappreciated and stuck as the care-taker of their children. I could relate on both sides. I guess the distasteful language is what took up all the seconds on the clock.

I made her a card. Told her I thought she could a use a little pick-me-up. Told her I’m sorry things are so hard right now. Told her it will get better. Told her that her children are adorable. Told her she is an amazing mother. Told her she should be proud. Told her she is not alone. Told her my phone number. Then I stuck in a Cold Stone gift card I had and some homemade caramels I made last night and took it to school –-- where I saw her as we stood in line for our children –-- and handed it to her.

She called me later in tears and said *Thank You*.

I still don’t know what the best option would have been while at the park.

But I am confident the right decision was made in the end.

And I’m glad I stayed.