I’ve Got it all Under Control

Ever have one of those moments as a parent that let you know you really aren’t doing a great job? That maybe you shouldn’t even be a parent? Well, I had one yesterday. My girls were playing dress up with their friend from the neighborhood. I heard them all take off down the stairs and outside, slamming the door behind them. But then I didn’t hear anything at all. Which was odd, because I was pretty sure they had let Jemima go with them. If Jemima goes outside with her sisters and friends, they stay in our front yard, for obvious reasons. So because I couldn’t be bothered to go downstairs and make sure my not quite two year old was safe, I stayed where I was and strained to hear something. Anything. Girls outside, Jemima inside, something. But I knew in my heart that Jemima couldn’t be inside because if she was left behind she’d be standing at the closed front door bawling her little eyes out. And I knew if even one of my kids was in the front yard, I’d hear them.

Then I hear my kids screaming, a bus idling and a car honking. Do I run out the door? No. Because? I just can’t let my mind go there. My kids are clearly screaming in fun, probably jumping on the neighbor’s trampoline and the bus does stop at the end of our driveway and cars do honk. So instead of running outside I ask Big Daddy who is at his desk just yards from the front door and with a clear view of the front door and yard outside, if he knows where Jemima is. He says no and then yells at me that he is working and is not on duty and I’d better find her! Stat!

Still, I stand on the porch and yell for Zeta. I plan to ask her if Jemima is over there with her and her sister. I’m sure she is because Jemima is not in the yard or the house. Bus is still idling, car is still honking. I get no answer from Zeta. So I walk down our drive and turn the corner. And there she is. Dressed in her Barbie Diamond Castle Princess gown, standing in the shallow trench on the side of the road looking up sweetly at a man who appears to be the bus driver. He’s trying to figure out where the hell she belongs when he spots me. “She yours?” he asks nicely enough and with a smile. I’m sure in his head he’s saying “She your sweet little girl, you terrible, neglectful woman?!” I say yes and smile and scoop her up. He smiles at me and does a really good job of not appearing disgusted with me. He was probably trying to make sure I didn’t smell of alcohol. He told me he was trying to figure out where she belonged and I told him she must have snuck out with her big sisters. We smiled and chuckled and he seemed to not be as appalled with me as I was. I was just waiting for him to call Child Protective Services or at least give me a good scolding.

I’d like to be able to blame the big girls, but clearly this is my fault. Even I know you can’t put the safety of an almost 2 year old into the hands an almost 7 year old and two incoming Kindergartners. I’m a jackass.