It was a rough week. We’ve all had them. It starts with a tantrum, an illness or an injury, and the dominoes just keep falling down as we navigate the pitfalls of each day with little ones. Ours started like this: 

My boys insisted on bringing their brand new, special edition Mario and Luigi Hot Wheels cars to the neighborhood park, and in a moment of weakness, I let them. 

To no one’s surprise, Little Bro lost his Luigi car. I searched, but it was getting dark, so I settled for walking home with a screaming toddler, in shambles about his lost car. Big Bro and I even went back to the park with rakes to look one last time. We were out there at sunset like monks in a Zen garden, skimming every inch of the sand-filled playground lot, but no luck.

In my Gilbert, Arizona neighborhood, we have an email list of moms that we use mostly for school carpools, yard sales and babysitting jobs, but I sent out a quick note to alert anyone who might find Luigi car at the park to please let me know. We went on with our rough week. Toddler tantrums, sleep strikes, and a big project at work added to my stress. On Wednesday, I got a call from the school to pick up my toddler after he fell off the playground and hurt his eye. 

By Thursday, I was mentally exhausted. My brain felt like my computer at work, with too many tabs open. I’d forgotten all about Luigi car, but when I opened my front door I was reminded in the most beautiful way. A brand new Luigi Hot Wheels car still in the packaging, was sitting on my welcome mat. No note, no text, no one taking credit for this random act of kindness. 

“No note, no text. No one taking credit for this random act of kindness.”

It was so unexpected and selfless. A small gesture that brought tears to my eyes and lifted my stress like a weight from my shoulders, reminding me of the kindness in our community and in my life. Another mom in my neighborhood knew how much that little toy mattered to a little boy. She probably didn’t know how big that little act of kindness would be to me. 

So, next time you see a mom with her arms full of bags of groceries and tiny hands, hold the door. Or if you witness a meltdown close to nap time, maybe offer her that granola bar from the bottom of your purse. We fellow moms are the only ones who know what it’s like to carry the world and be someone’s world at the same time. We help each other through. We keep each other sane. Sometimes, it’s just a little kindness that keeps us going.