I know I promised but I’ll post about the Cruella Conundrum tomorrow … I need to blog this first.
Stitch caused a YMCA lockdown today. No one could leave with any child until we found Stitch. It lasted less than a minute and it was one of the longest minutes I have ever lived through.
How did I, the most paranoid woman to have ever lived, lose track? It was the Halloween Party’s fault. The festivities were in the small gym right next to Stitch’s class. After the wrap-up, I told Stitch we were going to eat lunch now, and we needed to get her backpack. She runs out of the gym and (I thought) into her classroom for her backpack. There is a gaggle of parents just outside the door of the classroom and children milling around so it takes me a minute to figure out that Stitch is NOT in the room. She’s not in the hall. Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Baby. Other parents are looking around while clutching their kids (don’t blame them) and the teacher calls an immediate lockdown. All staff come boiling out of there offices or stations to help. But I am frantic.
It occurs to me (nanoseconds have gone by but they felt like eons) that she went straight back to the little lunch area. So I head down the hall for the lunch area. I am not calling Stitch’s name. I am not yelling Stitch’s name. I am not hollering Stitch’s name. No. I am Fokking Screaming her name at the top of my Fokking lungs. People parted before me like the Red Sea and even flattened against the walls to get out of my way. But does she answer me? No. She was afraid I was mad, so she was quiet. It’s her go-to defense when she’s in trouble for naughtiness.
Thank Christ, all his saints, and anyone else in any pantheon who wants some gratitude – Stitch was in the lunch area. The YMCA was taken off red alert. Peace and harmony filled the building. I kissed Stich and threatened to beat her like a drum if she EVER scared me like that again. All was well.
Now if I can just stop shaking and crying.
Whew – those moments of utter horror are awful – but great to hear it was short lived in obviously turned out ok! I blame Halloween.
SD
http://simpledudecomplexworld.blogspot.com/
There is nothing worse than losing a kid. Nothing. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. The longer it takes to find the little darling the more the panic threatens to take over. Whoever designed those department store racks for hanging clothes that are round should be shunned. When my oldest was little she loved to hide in those things until I was ready to call the cops. I can feel the panic rising in my chest just thinking about it.
I know exactly the panic rising that you are talking about …
Poor baby. This is when a harness thing starts looking good.
And a GPS tracking device inserted under her skin. Is that so much to ask?
They have those ….
And after dealing with a very strong, very stubborn, and very active two year old, I learned to love the harness.
Especially the harnesses with the little monkey backpack attachment. Those are cute!
My brother-in-law jokes (half seriously?) about getting one of those trackers for future children. My sister is opposed. I kind of want one just for the times when my cat has escaped. I can’t imagine my own kid being missing. I’m glad she was ok.
That is so scary, poor you and poor Stitch too. I still have nightmares about the times my kids slipped the net. FGBV’s
That kind of fear sticks with you, I know.
My oldest hid in a locker after swim class when she was 5. She thought it was cool that she could fit. I almost had to be carried out on a stretcher by the time she chose to reveal herself. Thankfully, neither of my other two chose to give me that particular heart attack.
They have no idea what they are putting you thru, do they? I was 5 when I did that to my mom. She is avenged now, baby.
No matter what age, it is beyond scary. Years ago, then 12 yr old son was missing when the ferry docked, (he left with the soccer coach and coach’s son), I died a thousand deaths until I saw his face again. Worst mother moment ever!
My mom assures me that the panic is no less when the “baby” is nearing 40.
Whew! Those nanoseconds can really stretch out to eons, can’t they?
Glad the ending was HEA.
It was like the Matrix up in there.
Yep, worst parent moments. Ever. And we’ve all had them. Ack, they are horrid. My brother hid in a laundry hamper once, then fell asleep. Entire neighborhood out searching into the night. My mother still won’t talk about it, over 45 years later.
Julie
(Yes, with Number Three, we did seriously consider a leash, we thought maybe her name meant Turn And Run Far in some other language, because every time we called her she bolted like a freaking gazelle.)
My brothers got lost in the woods for a full day once. The neighborhood was out in force. My dad finally found them. My mom swears that is the day she started needing Xanax to sleep.
Poor Fokker. So glad Stitch is OK. And good for the YMCA teachers – they sound awesome.
I kissed several of the teachers with tongue.
Yup, that shit is *scary*. My oldest hid in a clothes rack in Wal-Mart. She thought we were playing hide and seek. Scariest 10 minutes of my life. My middle child takes off on me regularly, but he’s easy to find because he has a vocal tic that you can hear for miles.
Maybe it’s a plot to avoid paying for our retirement facility, because that shit scared a good ten years off my life.
Oh jeez. I don’t have kids but have had my nephew hide to be contrary, like ya do, and scare us all to death… I’d imagine that same experience with one of my dogs, which I have gotten gray hairs over, is but a pale shadow. VERY happy Stich was safe and found.
Duct tape.
I think duct tape is a useful parenting tool in some cases.
im all for GPS..heat seeking…movement sensor that blasts out laser beam death machine should they be touched by anyone not wearing your fingerprints…implanted mechanism to release the hounds…evacuate hot air balloon and anything else james bond has
call it the new black
Yes! With a feature where the child is encased in a spacious indestructible ball with its own air supply until the danger is over. Those would sell like hotcakes at Christmas.