My kids ran away today.
I suppose every child makes a runaway attempt once or twice (and comes back when they get hungry). Except mine didn’t have any intention of coming back. Ever. They were caught and forced back against their will. I’m not sure they put a lot of thought into what they were doing.
Oh… I’m talking about my “littles” — Lainey (2) and Tristan (12 months). My older boys (Devin, 12, and Wesley, 8) did not run away today. At least I kept track of half my kids. Well… only one of the two older kids made it home on the bus this afternoon. So I can proudly say that I kept track of one quarter of my kids today. Hey — don’t judge. It’s not horrible as far as batting averages go…
Mornings are really rough on me. I mean really rough. I stay up pretty late working on writing projects (3:30am a couple nights ago). It’s the only time my house is quiet. Try to get something done during the day around here and you will type two words before you hear, “Mom! Mom! Mom!” or a small person climbs onto your lap. So nighttime is work time, and I love mornings like I love getting thrown up on (hey, that happened today, too!!!).
It had been a morning of cleaning up poop messes. One small child is potty training and the other small child decided to rip his diaper off in his bed this morning (Wake up, Mom! I have a poop surprise for you!). My youngest (Tristan) had also been screaming NON-STOP all morning. It was 11am and I hadn’t had a chance to dress or even brush my hair. If you have ever listened to a baby scream for hours on end, you know how it can fry your brain. (That’s if you feel you have any brain left after becoming a mother. I often question where mine is.) My children don’t normally scream like this, so I guess I’ve gotten off lucky so far. But Tristan was making up for lost time today.
Finally, I could take the screaming no longer. I covered my ears and ran upstairs to my room. I started to cry. Please stop screaming. But I could hear that Tristan had followed me as far as he could and was now standing at the bottom of the stairs screaming through the baby gate. Lainey must have thought it looked like a fun game because a moment later I heard her screams echoing up the stairs as well. The two of them seemed to be in a contest now over who could scream louder and longer. Ahhhhh! I can’t take it anymore, I thought, and buried my tear-stained face in my pillow.
Suddenly, it was quiet. Praise God!
And then it was too quiet. Suspiciously quiet. I opened the door of my room and ran down the stairs. I ran through every room. My toddler and baby were nowhere to be found. Oh my GOD! Someone came in my house and kidnapped my babies! I was in full blown panic mode. I was going to chase that kidnapper down. He would regret the day he walked into MY home. What kind of kidnapper waits for a mom to run upstairs and have a 60 second meltdown so he can steal her kids??? You picked the wrong house, mister. You picked the wrong kids, mister. They may be screaming kids, but they’re MY screaming kids… and I WANT THEM BACK! This mama is going to whoop your — and then I noticed the front door was unlocked and halfway open. Now how did the kidnapper unlock the front door? Oh no! My kids weren’t kidnapped — they escaped! Well… wait. That’s probably better than kidnapped. But still bad!
I ran out my front door in time to see my half naked babies (Tristan in a diaper and t-shirt, Lainey in only a diaper) across the street being corralled by my neighbor. Thankfully, my neighbor is very kind and said she completely understood. I’m sure she noticed that I had been crying — but on the off chance she didn’t, it surely did not escape her that I looked like the bride of Frankenstein, with my long hair sticking out all over the place and wearing the pajamas my kids had deposited various bodily fluids on all morning. She handed my babies to me and went back across the street to retrieve my jogging shoes from her front yard (at least Lainey had put a pair of shoes on before she let herself and Tristan out the front door). I was mortified. But my kind neighbor is also a mother, so I will take her at her word that she understood.
Seems like a little adventure is all Tristan needed to subdue his horrible screaming, and the rest of the day went much smoother. I even found my 3rd lost child (the one who didn’t arrive home on the bus)… or rather, my husband found him at his elementary school. Wesley was packing his things in his backpack and didn’t realize how slow he was going until he walked outside and saw the bus pulling away. I guess that kind of thing happens when you’re 8 and you… don’t notice everyone else leaving? Hmmmm.
There are now two ottomans barricading the front door. Lainey, the escape artist, was able to push one ottoman out of the way and still open the front door… she has yet to figure out how to move two.
I did not lose Devin, my oldest child, at any time during this day. Batting averages. Think batting averages. All good.
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