When my daughter was a baby, she had a pair of Trumpette socks that looked like ballet slippers. One day while we were at home, I noticed she only had one sock on. My husband and I searched for the missing sock, my favorite pink one, but to no avail. I practically tore the house apart, and finally my husband said, “Jodie, relax, it’s just a sock.” I know it’s just a sock, but I was perplexed as to where it had gone. It still nags at me from time to time, even six years later. As you can tell, I hate losing things. So you can imagine how I feel that it’s not even winter yet and I’ve already gone through three pairs of mittens. My daughter also lost her new North Face hat, which serves me right for buying her such a nice hat for school. Needless to say I’ve become very familiar with the contents of the lost and found.
The other day, I asked my daughter to get her things ready for school as I was searching for a different hat for her to wear. I found it and looked up to see her playing, no shoes or coat on. I asked her again to get ready as I tried to wrangle my son, who insisted I make him breakfast at that very moment. I told him he could eat when we got home or we’d be late. A meltdown ensued and I tried to explain it was cold and I wanted him to wear his mittens, which he couldn’t do if he was eating. I don’t know why I try to rationalize with a three-year old. Why does walking to the bus stop always have to be such a big production in my house? After I got his breakfast and his shoes and coat on, I noticed my daughter was still not ready.
“Maddie, I’m losing it,” I warned her. “What’s it?” she asked. Everything! My cool, my patience, my sanity.
We made it to the bus stop with a minute to spare. I decided I was done with rushing and my son and I would play at home that morning. It was a rough one – he’s in the process of dropping his nap so he was crankier than usual. Shortly before my daughter’s bus was due to arrive home, he decided he had to use the potty. We are in the midst of potty training, so I didn’t want to say no, but it’s always a process. I quickly ushered him to the bathroom as I impatiently looked at my watch. Then, my phone rang and the caller ID said “Charter Service.” It was the bus company calling to tell me the bus had arrived. Luckily, they will not drop off a Kindergartener unless a parent is present, which clearly I wasn’t. I left my son standing in the doorway wearing just a pull up and dashed outside. I tried to ignore the scolding look from the bus driver. As my daughter and I walked inside, my son fell to the floor in a slump of despair because I left him alone. Then my daughter burst into tears because I wasn’t outside waiting for her.
So, I’ve officially lost it. My mind, that is. I will end this post as I did my last, with a nice, tall glass of vino. As Dr. Seuss says (with a minor modification), “Today is gone, today is done. Tomorrow is another one.”