Jesus, whose fault is it?
The blame game has been around far longer than Facebook.
Humankind, as far back as the Garden has longed for someone to blame.
Don't get all holy on me now. Because we are all guilty of this. We are all stone-throwers.
There have been so many terrifying events in the last few weeks surrounding children that re-living all of them would be a blog post in and of itself. Suffice it to say, parents have blamed other parents involving a gorilla, an alligator, a terrorist, and a truck. And always, always, other parents come out of the woodwork ready with their stones and say, "Well, they should have...."
It's disgusting. It's unnecessary. There are no stones we could throw that those parents haven't swallowed already. There are no alternate endings and solutions that those parents haven't rehearsed a thousand times.
Why must it always come to this?
Because what has happened to one family is felt by all of us. And it touches us at our deepest, darkest fear. What if something happened to my child?
That thought could keep you up all night for the rest of your life. As a mother of a two year old, I was absolutely sick with all of the "what ifs" with that little boy... And, sure enough, I began to wonder about the parents. What they could have done differently, what I would have done differently....
I'm no better than anyone else. I wanted to blame. Why?
Because we want to always be safe. And if we can find a fault with someone in the system, then we can say to ourselves, "Well, it's because THEY did XYZ. I NEVER do XYZ, so what happened to them could NEVER happen to me. Shame on them, for doing XYZ."
But let me tell you something, we all know, in the pit of our souls, that we HAVE done XYZ. It happened to my family more than once. That two seconds that you don't know where the baby is, or lost track of your toddler. About 2 weeks ago, I took my boys to the splash park. Our favorite one is also next to a playground that is also the boy's fave. My MO is usually get the biggin' out first, he comes with me to get the stuff out of the back of the van, and then we get the littlin' out. It wasn't the busiest time of the day, but there were several cars already there (even when we come early so it's not as blazing hot) I went to shut the back of the van, and realized... He isn't there.... I called his name... over and over... louder and louder... I checked between the cars, made sure he wasn't in the street, and didn't see him. I was literally screaming for him, hysterical when I look over... The little turd had been playing in the grass by the playground. Just a sweet and innocent as ever. He came running when he heard me, he'd just been at the playground and it took him a few seconds to get back.
All of this transpired in about one minute. I kid you not. I lost my son for one whole minute and I felt like the crappiest parent alive for the rest of the day.
Because we've seen what can happen in one minute's time...
I don't think we blame because we hate the parents. I don't think we blame because we aren't sorry for what they are going through. We blame because deep inside, we feel a piece what they're feeling, and it scares the shit out of us. If we felt it for too long, it'd kill us. In order to push it away, to detach from it being our child, we find the fault. Even when there isn't a fault to be had.
Mommies... go hug your babies... Get a cup of coffee, and understand that there isn't one of us that hasn't blamed... but please... stop. Pray for the Mommy that left a vacation with an empty seat, unused dinosaur jammies, and a extra fuzzy bear. Pray for the Mommies who heard of their son or daughter out enjoying life, having a wonderful time, only to be killed for who they were. Pray for the Mommy who doesn't have to clean the playroom again because her children aren't there to make a mess of it...