Keep'n Mama Humble
A few weeks back I lost my kid. For those of you who know my children, you can probably figure out which one went AWOL. That's right, my red-headed toddler of mass destruction. And leave it to her not to dissapear in a crowd, but at home. One minute, she was sitting amidst a pile of books in the dining room while I worked in the kitchen. The next minute, the sudden silence screamed that something was not right. I immediately began calling her name and checked her usual hiding places. (Under my bathroom sink, inside the tupperware cabinet in the kitchen, in the tub of dog food...did you ever know that these were such magical places to explore?) What I expected to be a ten-second ordeal stretched into three minutes. My voice rose to a yell and I went from walking the house to running frantically from room to room.
As luck (or lackthereof) would have it, my mom walked in the door as I dashed across the entry-way, shrieking like a lunatic. "I can't find Hadley!", I screamed and my, thankfully, fit mom began sprinting down the hall. Hadley's name had never sounded more terrifying in my ears as both mom and grandmother cried out to our missing girl. In a scene that couldn't have been more made for a movie if it tried, I flew into the bathroom that joined my two kiddos' rooms from one side as my mom barrelled in from the other. There with her huge brown eyes full of question over all the noise, stood my daughter. In front of the toilet. With her hands inside. In her brother's old pee. (Why do the males refuse to flush??) My mom, full of relief and, quite possibly, emotional exhaustion, fell back onto the floor with a "Hadley!". (That might be the most commonly-used phrase in our house these days. And now you see why.) I scooped up the little sinner and immediately began washing her hands, as I tearfully assured my mom that I truly do watch my kids.
Anyone feel better about their day? (Oh yeah...in that same week, the boy who won't flush managed to elude me long enough to pee in the courtyard of a rather nice salon. While several older patrons looked on in horror. But you can't stop once it's stops, right? It stings. Much like my pride these days.)
As luck (or lackthereof) would have it, my mom walked in the door as I dashed across the entry-way, shrieking like a lunatic. "I can't find Hadley!", I screamed and my, thankfully, fit mom began sprinting down the hall. Hadley's name had never sounded more terrifying in my ears as both mom and grandmother cried out to our missing girl. In a scene that couldn't have been more made for a movie if it tried, I flew into the bathroom that joined my two kiddos' rooms from one side as my mom barrelled in from the other. There with her huge brown eyes full of question over all the noise, stood my daughter. In front of the toilet. With her hands inside. In her brother's old pee. (Why do the males refuse to flush??) My mom, full of relief and, quite possibly, emotional exhaustion, fell back onto the floor with a "Hadley!". (That might be the most commonly-used phrase in our house these days. And now you see why.) I scooped up the little sinner and immediately began washing her hands, as I tearfully assured my mom that I truly do watch my kids.
Anyone feel better about their day? (Oh yeah...in that same week, the boy who won't flush managed to elude me long enough to pee in the courtyard of a rather nice salon. While several older patrons looked on in horror. But you can't stop once it's stops, right? It stings. Much like my pride these days.)
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