So I’ve packed up two huge boxes of stuff to mail off to my sister. I cannot see over the top of these boxes when I carry them. I don’t have a stroller to use as a hand truck anymore. So JD, Annaliese and I go to the post office anyway. I know, “why didn’t you just wait and go without the kids?” Yeah well, I’ve already put this off about 2 weeks and it was payday so I can afford the postage now. Of course the only parking space is the furthest from the door. I lead the kids across the small but busy parking lot to stand on the sidewalk while I navigate the boxes over. Its ok. You can laugh at the visual. “Stay there” means something COMPLETELY different when you’re 3 & 5 than when you’re 41.
Two merciful women open the door for us and as we enter, the devil enters my children because they start spinning around and bumping into each other as loud and on purpose as possible. A postal employee comes over and offers to assist me on the automated machine even though they are oversized packages. She tries to instruct me on the machine and the computer screens. Meanwhile, Thing 1 and Thing 2 are smacking into each other laughing, spinning, hugging and falling over. Eventually Annaliese hits the floor elbow first. Silence. The wind up. The pitch. Here it is: waaaaaAAAAAAAAA! Undaunted, the postal employee continues through the turmoil but eventually sees the futility and does it all for me without a huff or a puff or an eye roll. She was awesome and must have her own Things 1 & 2 or remembers what it was like.
So for all the time I have ever complained about the U.S. Postal Service employees, I take it back. I give a standing ovation to the North Aurora, IL staff. Thank you for serving so well. I am SO going back to get her name and tell her personally. Alone.