Mommy Moment At the Monster – Angela Style

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.

One.

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!

Comments

  1. My breath was held the whole time I was reading that post! Wow. So glad you found your little guy!

  2. Omigosh, that was a scary moment, Angela. So glad he was okay!

  3. Natalie, thanks so much for having me over!

    Alison, they were a few of the worst moments of my life!

    Kelley, me too! My heart went back and forth between racing out of my chest and just stopping all together!

  4. Very scary…it always seems to be the boys that are the most curious! Glad he was okay! My son Will climbed into a rack of clothes and it freaked me out, then he popped his head out…little stinker!

    • He followed another one of the moms into the little store! It’s scary, because I know her, but he doesn’t, so I hate to think he would be so friendly with a complete stranger :(

  5. Very scary moment. When my kids crawl into clothing racks to hide because they think it is funny I completely freak out. Whenever I lose sight of them I have that horrible fear. You described it perfectly.

  6. Ugh, I know that feeling. I always find myself counting heads too. Even now that my boys are older (5 and 7) I still do it.

    We’re going to our enormous, busy mall today and the mega movie theater complex inside it. And I’ll be constantly searching for and counting those heads!

    • Sometimes I feel like it’s easier in a place like that, because then I am on super-alert, like a well-trained CIA agent or something!

  7. Goosebumps..you described that feeling completely right; seconds feel like minutes. And you never lose that “scared feeling” of losing your kids, if anything it gets worse when they become teenagers.

  8. Oh boy do I know this feeling. Just this summer we were at a local fair and my husband went to go get something, Sweet Pea followed him without telling me and I was looking for him all over the place, then I see him walking back with his daddy! It is a horrible horrible feeling!

    Sometimes I just want to tether them to me. Or maybe to a pole?

    • Oh, I would have been terrified. And of course your husband was probably just oblivious to your nervousness, because he knew Sweet Pea was with him the whole time!

  9. oh that feeling! the worst. literally the worst most awful nightmare of a moment. this is motherhood. thanks for the post!

  10. Well, that was a beautifully crafted roller coaster ride! Great story, but thankfully, a better ending!

  11. Wow, Angela! That is scary! I love how you wrote this, though…the flow and rhythm of it was beautiful.
    Those things can happen SO fast. I’m so glad you found him quickly.

    • He had wandered into the store with another mom, which is both good and bad. I knew her, so that’s good, but he didn’t, and he just held her hand with a smile the whole time.

  12. Oh, how scary! I’ve been there and completely freaked out.

  13. OMG I’ve sooooo been there.

  14. Oh, how scary! I’ve been there before and it’s completely terrifying. So glad he was okay!

    • Isn’t it the worst feeling? I felt so helpless yet also ready to start rummaging through strangers’ cars and running up and down for miles to find him :(

  15. Oh, Angela, I just want to hug you. And Dylan. I hate that feeling when you can’t find them. And every second does feel like an eternity.

    Has your heart recovered?

    • Yes! I have recovered. But I am a little (more) nuts now when we’re out. And I’m constantly reminding DH to keep an eye on them. And he just shakes his head at me :)

  16. The worst feeling in the world. Even if it’s just moments, you know a child of his age can’t take care of himself.

    We helped a mom look for her lost 8 year old this weekend on our vacation. We were at a family friendly resort with lots of bike trails and two swimming pools so there was a lot of area to cover, but I felt so sorry for the sheer panic in the mom’s eyes. Thankfully my husband found him safe, but those moments of worry are excruciating.

    • 8 is still so little :( My girlfriend lost her daughter at the zoo one day, and it was awful. It was a case of, “What do you mean she’s not with YOU?” The zoo workers found her right away and took her inside of one of the buildings (it was a total time of maybe 5-10 minutes tops.) They were NOT nice about it, which made things a ton worse :(

      I am so glad your husband helped find the little boy safely.

  17. DUDE! This is the worst feeling in the world!!! EVER!

    And I have SO been there!

  18. Angela’s writing always just gives me joy – even when it is a story like this that made my heart drop. Such talent and beauty.

  19. ooooh, I hate that, when you lose sight of them, thinking they are lost. My heart stopped for you and started again once you found that little guy.
    This was written so well…the ending was just perfect. :)

  20. Thanks Kir! Abbey was so much better (and still is) about staying close to me. Dylan would go anywhere and with anyone :(