Ask For Help

I traveled to see my sister this weekend. To do this:









The stranger lady (with ginormous bosoms) who sat next to me on the plane was very drunk. She stunk like last nights’ beer and I am confident that her bloody mary was a substitute for brushing her teeth. Before, during, and after take off, she took great interest in my baby. She professed her love and vowed not to steal my daughter and repeatedly promised me that she was not crazy. And then she passed out and snored. And then she woke up and asked if she could watch me breastfeed, while trying to crawl under my nursing cover. (No lie) I told her NO. And then she passed out again. And I giggled to myself and felt hyper to relay this story to my friends and family. I watched my baby sleep in my arms and then I watched the stranger. Her face and fingers were swollen and her face was pink in those places that tell me alcohol is in her system and rarely, if ever, leaves it.

I drifted off into humoring myself with my earlier venture through the airport and my shameless solicitations for help when I venture into public with my children: 'Excuse me stranger, will you hold my baby while I tie my shoes, secure my carrier and gather my overflow of diapers, teething things, wallet, and drink into my purse?' 'Uhm, excuse me sirs, will one of you lift my suitcase?' 'Excuse me mam, will you help me carry my luggage?' 'Hi, would you carry this car seat to the curb? Thanks.' Rearing children really is much easier when one asks all manner of people for assistance. Like, stranger in the grocery store: 'Will you hand that spice to me..I cannot reach it and keep my baby from falling out of the cart? Thanks.' Or, lady behind me at the concession stand, 'Will you sign some scribbly initials on that receipt , I have to chase my oldest and this one has my hands full...thanks.' Or, 'Will you open the door for me?', or 'Will you close that door for me?', etc. People are actually amazingly helpful. Sometimes, people even offer their help, unsolicited. Like, 'Mam, you left the doors of your van open in the parking lot. I'd shut them, but you might want to make sure they are locked.' …. It takes a village, right?

The flight attendant rolled her cart by me and asked if I would like peanuts or pretzels to go with my coke. I declined both but Big Miss Drunk Boobs, ordered two vodkas and requested pretzels. She professed her love to my daughter again, drank some vodka, then resumed her snoring/snorting. Her bobble head snored through the duration of the flight. I stared at my sleeping bambina and prayed that she would never get on a plane and act like a drunk fool. And then I prayed that as she grows in life and faces hardship that she would never find comfort in alcohol or rather, the abuse of it. I felt heavy that Miss Drunk Boobs is someone’s daughter too. So, I scribbled on a napkin, “Get help for your drinking problem. You are worth it. Love, the lady with the baby.” I shoved the napkin in her purse before I scurried off the plane and prayed that she would feel worth it and ask for help.