Sometimes, post topics immediately make themselves known via a funny moment or touching experience. At other times, it can be tougher to instantly produce a viable post idea.
The reality is, much of the nuts and bolts of daily life as a SAHM doesn’t bear sharing, simply for the sake of being repetitious. So I sat and pondered potential post topics. And paid some bills. Pondered, then paid. Paid and pondered. Ten minutes later, the money ran out, as did any blog-worthy topics. Still nothing.
But thank God for inspiration…
(wait for it)
I noted that it was almost time to pick up #4 from preschool. This happens frequently; I have a chronic issue with being precisely on time. It’s not so much that I run late, per se, as much as it’s the error of neglecting to leave adequate time to travel to the destination. So if teleportation were possible, I would be impeccably on time.
Get on that, science geeks.
As I paid bills, #6 was napping in his crib, and #5 was playing a game on the computer in the basement.
Or so I thought.
I called #5’s name. Nothing. Headed down to the basement- she wasn’t there. Ran back upstairs to my room… not there, either.
You know that feeling, right? The tensed stomach, jittery legs, and quivering voice as the panic begins to rise.
Is the front door still locked?? Yes.
Whew. Not wandering the streets.
Has she accidentally drown herself headfirst in the toilet?? No.
Thank God. Especially since they haven’t been cleaned… note to self… if child is still alive and on premises, CLEAN THE TOILETS. And WATCH THE CHILD.
Next came the frantic tear up the staircase, two at a time. You know that run- the tripping over your own feet in haste to gauge just how bad a situation you’re facing…
Calling her name with no response, I rummaged through the older girls’ closet.
Because that’s where #4 and #5 hid from me once.
I tossed bed covers aside, because…
That’s where #4 also hid from me once.
I fly back down to the basement, cursing the bills that I have been distracted in paying, and cursing the Yo Gabba computer game for apparently not being entertaining enough.
Behind the boiler, maybe?
That’s where #4 hid when she was sneaking those cookies. Damn #4’s sneaky, hiding ways!
After about two minutes of near hysterical searching, I finally found #5. Under the basement futon. Face down, on the floor.
Is she…. alive??
(Maybe she didn’t DROWN in the toilet. But maybe she put her head in, and inhaled some noxious substances that have now killed her. Can you even die from– never mind.)
I think it’s safe to say that since you’re reading this, you know that #5 was indeed alive. And had merely fallen asleep.
That’s right. Under the futon. Asleep. By choice, mind you.
You can ask a two year old to verbalize WHY they’re chosen to take some odd course of action. I know this, because I’ve tried. And once I scooped up #5 and she awoke, I asked her just why she had decided to take an impromptu nap under the futon. The response?
“… ‘Cause… I want chips. And we can go in the car and get some? And I was seepin’, and I like my glitter shoes, and can we go pick up #4 and go in ‘da cah and blagetty blah blah…”
Ah. Makes perfect sense.
But that’s the point: kids don’t typically make sense. That’s why they’re funny. Their brains evolve over time in terms of their increased ability to reason, rationalize, and explain themselves and their actions in concrete, coherent thoughts.
Nevertheless, #5 was found intact, and after rudely awakening a bewildered #6, we made a mad dash to the preschool to pick up #4…
(6 minutes late. Argh! Teleportation, people! TELEPORTATION.)
Because I am generally a responsible, competent person/parent that maintains a high regard for the feelings of others, I attempted to explain to #4’s teacher why I was late. And although the explanation was clear in my head, the conversation went as follows:
Me: (gasping from dash to door) “So sorry I’m late. My younger daughter was- I couldn’t find her- she was under the couch. But asleep. I mean, she ended up falling asleep under the couch, well, futon, in the basement. And I was calling her, & finally found her, but we were late…”
Teacher: …. (blink. blink.)…. “Ok.”
Me: (dying inside) … “Um… thank you!”
So goes my morning.
The lesson learned, however, is that parenthood is replete with these moments. And in the midst of the mundane, there are always those moments of inspiration, HIDDEN among the ordinary, that remind you of why parenthood is endlessly industrious, oftentimes draining, but also endlessly entertaining.
Yup, inspiration, folks. You just need to FIND it.
(Check under your futon.)
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