And then Wednesday night, I tossed and turned and had nightmares about my impending journey to Bible study the following morning. I was terrified to take the bus.
Several weeks ago, when my parents were visiting, there was an incident. Mom wanted to join me for my Mom 2 Mom group, which meets on Thursday mornings at 10 am and offers childcare! The easiest way to get there is by bus, because the subway is not direct (and there aren't any elevators to it unless I walk several blocks), and taxis are never guaranteed because it's still rush hour (and loading two kids and a stroller into a cab by myself is also really difficult). Even though taking the bus is the easiest option, it isn't necessarily easy. I'd only done the commute once before with both kids and it wasn't terrible.
We leave an hour before M2M starts, though it's not far away. Leaving at 9:00 allows enough time for the 20 minute walk, waiting for the bus, and riding 15 minutes to where we need to go. I put Danny in the stroller and Benji in the baby carrier. I would love to use a double stroller, but it would be way too heavy and big to lift up and fit through the bus door, but I do need a stroller because the walk to the bus stop is just a little too long for Danny to do on his own, and he's also hard to carry if I'm already wearing Benji. Plus, it's like clockwork, he always falls asleep on the way home in the stroller.
No part of my Thursday commute is hard except getting on and off the bus, unless it's also raining.
It's a gamble how easy or difficult it will be to lift the stroller onto the bus. Unfortunate for me, Bus 855 has two steps, where some of the older buses have one (which are a piece of cake). On a good day, other bus riders will go out of their way to lend a helping hand and grab either the front or back of the stroller. They'll take special care to get my son on the bus safely. On a really good day, the bus driver will get up from his seat, and help maneuver the stroller around the corner while mesmerized by Danny's golden hair and sapphire eyes. On a bad day, no one helps, everyone stares, and some even have the genius idea to try to butt ahead of me when my stroller is obviously blocking the entire doorway.
And then there was the time a month ago that Mom was with me.
I was so excited to have the extra help lifting the stroller. The day was chilly but clear. The walk was great, and the bus arrived to the bus stop directly after we had. I went in first, lifting the front of the stroller, and Mom had the back. She dropped in our 2 kuai bus fare (30 cents each) while I moved out of the way for other passengers. That wasn't so bad. The bus was empty enough where we were both were able to take a seat while I pulled the stroller out of the way, next to me.
At a stop before ours, two people stood up by the door to get off. I wasn't paying attention but Mom told me that they were trying to get off and the bus driver closed the exit door and took off before they could leave. They had to wait until the next stop. That's peculiar. We were approaching the stop while Mom and I discussed how we'd get the stroller off of the bus. We waited for everyone to exit around us so that we could turn the stroller towards the door. I stepped down to the bottom step, lifting the front of the stroller. Before I knew it, the driver had closed the door on my stroller and began taking off! The street was moving below me as everyone on the bus began shouting at the bus driver to stop. In a few seconds, he stopped the bus and released the stroller from the door so we could exit.
In the moment, I giggled about it while Mom was freaking out. I tried to play it down, "that's just China life. It's ridiculous, hahaha!" We learned our lesson to be as fast as possible when exiting the bus, because who knows what kind of driver we'll have. On the ride home, we didn't waste any time. We butted our way through the others so we weren't left behind or stuck in the door. To top off our stressful commute, it was now raining on our walk home.
When we arrived home, Mom shared our story to Dad and Josh. "I don't know how she does it! This is so hard! You poor thing!" Of course, my dad joined in, and my inner thoughts started to turn into self pity.
The next week, my mom watched Danny at home so that I could go to Bible study with Benji in the baby carrier only. Wow, easy peasy. Then the week after that, my parents were gone, which meant I had to take both kids. Josh was at home that Thursday morning, and said he'd call a cab to our complex so that he could help load the stroller into the trunk, and then I had a ride home with a friend, so I wouldn't have to worry about any transportation difficulties whatsoever. But 9 am on a Thursday is very hard to get a cab. He requested one on his taxi app, and there were none. So, I said, forget it... I'll try to find one on the street or I'll just start walking to Bible study. I walked to the closest intersection. I waited and waited. I walked a little further. A few drivers passed by, acting like they didn't see me. A few more waved "no" to me and picked up Chinese people instead. And finally (sometimes the only way) I got a cab was, I grabbed the door as someone was getting out of a taxi. I put Danny in before the guy could tell me no. I somehow managed to finagle the folded stroller in the cab, and we were off, only an hour late.
Taking a taxi is too unpredictable and frustrating. Not to mention, I feel scared for Danny's safety without a car seat. He will not sit still and most cabs don't even have seat belts. Plus, those drivers are nuts! So, last week I began to gear myself up to take the bus again. I guess I was suffering from some post traumatic stress. On Wednesday night, I kept going in and out of sleep, dreaming of all kinds of terrible outcomes, but mostly that the stroller would be stuck while I was already off of the bus, or that Danny's arms get smashed by the door. All night I kept waking up, praying and giving myself pep talks. I'd tell myself I could and would take the bus again. When I woke up restless on Thursday morning, I saw that it was raining out. And I was done. I didn't go. Nope. Instead, my fear grew irrationally and I just didn't want to deal with anything outside the apartment.
I can imagine my friends back home reading about our little bus incident thinking, Oh my goodness! That is crazy. How terrible! And then, my friends who are here in the thick of it with kids are thinking while laughing, CLASSIC China! I was used to this madness. I really was. I've gotten accustomed to so many bizarre, stupid, gross, or dangerous things here. It had become normal. But then we got stuck in the bus doors. I was afraid of taking the bus again. I was frustrated with taking taxis and even dealing with the general Chinese population.
By the weekend, I realized my reclusive behavior was getting out of hand. I managed to get out on my own for a little Christmas shopping. I took the bus, I interacted with the general public. Things aren't so bad. Living here is not scary.
I'd love to tell you that in the end I have overcome this fear of taking the bus with kids. But I haven't. I really want to go to my Bible study tomorrow, especially since it will be the last time this year. My best good friend, Breanne even offered for her driver to pick me up. Problem solved. Anxiety dissipated.
But I really want to take the bus. I don't want to leave China on a note of fear. When you fall down, you get back up, right? Years from now, I don't want to recall life in Shanghai with two small kids as impossible. What would that mean for my future?
Here's the plan for tomorrow: I am taking my kids on the bus. I am going to kick that bus' ass.
Unless it rains, then it's no deal.
UPDATE:
I killed it.
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