The Wakhaneza Project

I first heard of The Wakhaneza Project through my work as a social worker. Wakhaneza is the Dakota word for "child" and is translated to English as "sacred being." The Wakhaneza Project and their trainings are designed to equip people and communities to create positive, welcoming environments for parents and their children, but to also give guidance and tips should a challenging situation arise. You can learn more at: http://www.co.ramsey.mn.us/ph/hb/wakanheza.htm.

It was while I was at the post office yesterday with Landon that I wished someone, anyone in line had taken that training and offered me a hand. I arrived at the post office with several bags of stuff to ship and letters to be mailed off. I put Landon is his stroller and headed inside. I hemmed and hawed about bringing his Nuk in but decided against it since it wasn't nap time and he's at the point where he only gets it at bed (mistake #1). We seemed to get there in the nick of time because a line of people started forming just as we were getting to the counter. I bought my stamps, but still had to tape up the box and load it up. Here, I debated just bringing the box home, but then that would have required a second trip to the post office to ship it off (mistake #2). Upon looking at the line of people that had formed, then at Landon, the woman behind the desk said I could load up the box and then just bring it right back up to her without getting in line again. Landon was fine at that point, so I pushed the stroller off to the side while juggling two bags of stuff, a box, my wallet, and the tape dispenser.

I got the box taped and was attempting to solve the puzzle of fitting all the stuff into the box, when Landon started to melt down. I turned to him and took of his mittens to play with. He promptly threw them. I turned back to the box and was feverishly trying to get stuff inside. I dropped a sock in the process (I was mailing some of Landon's outgrown clothes to my sister). The next woman in line let me know that I had dropped the sock. Landon continued to cry and kicked off his shoe in the process. I tried to console him, let him know that I'll be done soon, and I gave him my cell phone to play with. He threw that too. I worked for a few more seconds on the box and turned to him and smiled, rubbed his cheek and gave him a kiss. One of the other people at the counter made a comment to the worker behind the counter about, "the poor, little guy." It certainly seemed that the faster I tried to get my stuff done, the slower the process seemed to go. Although I was smiling on the outside, trying to convince myself that everything was okay and telling Landon that everything was okay and was talking Landon through everything I was doing, on the inside I was seething with frustration. "C'mon," I thought to myself, "there isn't anyone in line who can come and ask me if I need help? There isn't anyone who's been in a position like I'm in who can offer to pack the box, or hold Landon, or.....?"

I finally made it to the car and just wanted to cry. Although, I wasn't frustrated at Landon and wouldn't have lashed out at him, I wondered what it would have taken for someone to acknowledge that I could have used a hand. This experience was a good reminder to me that if I ever saw anyone in a similar situation, I should do what I could to help him/her out.

It was also a reminder, that no matter how quick my errands might be or how fine Landon might seem at the get-go, I should carry in his Nuk/cup/snack.