That’s right! It’s time for another Mommy Moment at the Monster! If you’re not sure what a Mommy Moment at the Monster is, head over and read all about how Mommy Moments at the Monster came to be.
So let’s welcome Angela from Tiaras and Trucks! Angela is a mommy to two little ones (Yep! You guessed it…a boy and a girl!), and we’ve got lots in common: she loves to write and does it for fun and freelances, she’s an avid reader, she’s a SAHM, and we’ve also been blogging about the same amount of time…so I consider her an old friend.
Go grab a cup of coffee and a donut, ahem, I mean a low-fat muffin, or depending on the time of the day maybe some wine and chocolate, and sit back and enjoy the story!
A small mistake in a hand-written confirmation meant wires were crossed before the day began.
A misunderstanding about directions meant people were unknowingly driving to the wrong location.
Phone calls and text messages and harried moms trying to reorganize on the go, grabbing coffee on the way out the door, checking for sippy cups and wet wipes and car keys.
Coffee cools in the travel mug nestled in my cup holder, untouched during the forty minute drive and abandoned when we arrived at the cider mill to pick strawberries.
Damp grass slides around my feet as we move from the main building to the tram we’ll take out to the strawberry patch, scooping Dylan into my arms to keep him from wandering too far, Abbey grasping my hand until she is ready to giggle and squeal with her friends.
We board the tram. Dylan walks to the other side and climbs down. I follow, plopping him back on the seat. Laughing, he walks to the other side and climbs down. Liking his new game, he protests as I pull him onto my lap, willing the tram to move, hoping he doesn’t tear through the strawberry plants like a wayward train.
Shockingly, he is a perfect strawberry picking companion. He stays close to Abbey, who walks slowly down the path, meticulously choosing the berries for her little green pint. Small fingers hover over plants, searching for fruit that meets her idea of perfect, deeply colored, perfectly shaped, and small enough for her to sigh, “Look at this one! Isn’t it so cute?”
Back at the main building, kids snack on cider and donuts, anxious to move over to the play area filled with haystacks and a corn maze, a small petting farm and tricycle path.
Soon, they’re bouncing between picnic tables, climbing on wooden fences. My eyes count: one, two blonde heads, close enough to reach in an instant.
I collect napkins and half-eaten donuts, watching Dylan follow Abbey. One, two blonde heads laughing on a bench with their friends.
Half-full gallons of cider sit on the tables. I begin to pour one into the other. One, two blonde heads, holding onto a small wooden fence.
Cider sloshes onto my hand. I turn to grab a napkin for the table and reach into my bag for wipes or hand sanitizer. One blonde head.
My eyes scan for the other.
The cider is forgotten.
“Abbey! Where’s Dylan?” I try not to panic.
She looks at the fence, confused. The moment stretches into an hour.
“I don’t know. He was just here.”
My eyes scan, unworried at first, then worried as I extend my glance a little farther.
It has been less than a minute but feels like ten.
My friends look around, my worry spreading.
No little yellow curls.
He can’t have gone far, but he’s nowhere nearby.
Two minutes feels like thirty.
“Mama, where’s Dylan?”
I jog behind the building. Maybe he has followed some of the kids to the play area?
No short legs in blue plaid shorts.
Three minutes feels like an eternity.
“Here he is!” a relieved voice calls to me, and I run to gather him into me tightly.
He beams at me, unaware of my panic, confused about the intensity of my arms. Abbey joins our hug until he wriggles out of my grasp, eager to return to climbing the fence.
This time she follows him, giggling.
I am at their heels, my stomach and heart still twisted into one giant lump of fear.
One, two blonde heads, laughing in the sun.
Thank you for sharing this moment Angela, one that also brings back memories of losing Ethan once and feeling like I was in a nightmare. I think this happens to most of us at least once, and that feeling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable. Seconds seem like minutes, and you nailed the feeling of panic perfectly. By you sharing your Mommy Moment with us, you are reminding us all that we cannot possibly watch our children 24/7, and that things can go drastically wrong in just a second.
There’s no manual out there for what we do, so sharing stories like this helps us all learn from each other.
Now head over to Angela’s place Tiaras and Trucks and if you are new there, make sure to tell her that I sent you!