As most of you are aware by now, my boyz are a bit on the fanatical side when it comes to all things Star Wars. Ray is honestly and truly convinced he is "discovering the force." It is quite common to hear something that has moved or is missing explained by no other than the force in our household. Michael and I tend to roll out eyes and nod our heads. We've more or less given up on trying to explain to him that "the force" is fiction. Anyone who thinks we are corrupting our children by not better explaining this to him is MORE than welcome to come give a shot at it, but trust me when I say it's falling on deaf ears.
Ray is very much aware that his vast knowledge of all things Star Wars greatly exceeds our own. (I'm not sure if it is the way I constantly mispronounce the names or the way my eyes glaze over when he talks about the difference between the planets Naboo and Earth.) However, there is one adult in his life that he highly regards as an expert in this field, Uncle Mikey. Frequently Ray tells me how Uncle Mikey is a Star Wars expert and probably even knows.... To which I respond, "That's great Ray. I'm glad you and Uncle Mikey can share that," while I think, "cause now I don't have to pretend to care."
The other day, Uncle Mikey and Cal stopped by. (And in case you were wondering, yes, Cal has also been infiltrated by Jedi Alliance and as a youngling, is working on wielding some mean lightsaber skills all his own to the dismay of his mother.) I'm not sure who or how the discovery was made, but Uncle Mikey and Ray noticed they both have moles on their necks.
Ray's eyes lit up as he made a connection and shared it out loud with everyone, "Hey! I know Uncle Mikey! Maybe having a mole on your neck is a sign of being force sensitive!!"
We all had a good chuckle, but what Ray neglected to notice is that I too have a mole on my neck, (What can I say, I come from a long line of moely people) and I am anything but force sensitive.
"But maybe you are Mom and you just haven't discovered it yet? And it takes training to know how to really use."
Maybe, just maybe.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Happy Father's Day 2011
The beginning of this week marked the annual tradition of Father's day and of course it did not go unnoticed at the W-x household. Rob was anxious the night before to give his gift to Michael and Michael had to cover his mouth on more than one occasion to stop Rob from spilling the beans. We remedied the situation by promising Rob that he could give his gift to Michael first thing in the a.m.
As almost every parent of young children will concur, what you REALLY want for a holiday is the ability to sleep in, but Rob stuck to his end of the bargain making sure Michael had a bed full of boy by 7 a.m. will presents to open from all. Ray and Rob were both so proud to present Michael with the "plaided" shorts they had each picked out. I'm pretty sure Michael made a sly comment about wishing he had some a month or so back. Ray and Rob did not pick up on his sarcasm and now he has two pairs! Styling! I just told him to be thankful I had led them towards the more neutral colors and less bold patterns. He's also lucky Sam is still only 2 and so his gift was a polo, which of course coordinates with the stylish 'plaided' shorts so he has complete ensembles to wear. (My gift? I opted for a photo poster print of the boys, it's pretty cute if I do say so myself. It's the boys all wear different shoes of Michael's and captioned with 'We want to follow in our Daddy's footsteps, but he has some BIG shoes to fill!)
I then ushered the boys out so Michael could go back to sleep for a bit and that he did. By the time we started functioning and getting ready for church, we realized we were a bit behind schedule. Commenting that we were going to be late, Rob responded with "Oh no! Pastor's gonna be mad at us!"
I think it had less to with the wrath of the pastor and more to do with fact they were already 10-15 minutes late by the time we loaded everyone in and still had a 10 minute drive ahead of us that led us to opt for a stop at Donut Connection in leu of church. (Great example to set huh? I guess we're all entitled to an error here and there....)
The afternoon entailed a visit with Michael's family and some quiet time. We planned to finish out the evening with a nice dinner out with my mom and grandparents. That didn't go exactly as planned... To put it bluntly, by the end of the meal, I was being approached by others telling me "We remember these days, but really they do pass." We knew one family who has a daughter a year older than Ray. They mentioned that they've always wanted a little boy and I was ready to give them one. A 4 year old specifically.
I left the restaurant carrying two screaming and kicking children to the Yukon, Rob broke away. I sternly said, "Get in the truck now." A man was leaving his own vehicle popped his own tailgate and said, "Here you go. You heard your mom. Get in the trunk now." You have to love when a stranger can help you smile through the grim circumstances. Rob wasn't as sure.
When we got to the Yukon he informed me that he did in fact want to go with that new family. "Okay then, would you like carrying your lightsaber to their car?" He changed his mind real fast.
The drive home proved interesting as well. Rob decided to unbuckle himself and unlock his car door. He was pretty sure he was going to get out and go live with Nana. We pulled over, re-buckeled and relocked. The second time I was even smart enough to move the child lock switch up making it impossible for him to open the door from the inside. He continued unbuckling more times than I can count. It was a long drive home with us pulling over every 5 feet...
Happy Father's Day Michael! Happy Father's Day! At least we got you this nice story to remember forever right???
As almost every parent of young children will concur, what you REALLY want for a holiday is the ability to sleep in, but Rob stuck to his end of the bargain making sure Michael had a bed full of boy by 7 a.m. will presents to open from all. Ray and Rob were both so proud to present Michael with the "plaided" shorts they had each picked out. I'm pretty sure Michael made a sly comment about wishing he had some a month or so back. Ray and Rob did not pick up on his sarcasm and now he has two pairs! Styling! I just told him to be thankful I had led them towards the more neutral colors and less bold patterns. He's also lucky Sam is still only 2 and so his gift was a polo, which of course coordinates with the stylish 'plaided' shorts so he has complete ensembles to wear. (My gift? I opted for a photo poster print of the boys, it's pretty cute if I do say so myself. It's the boys all wear different shoes of Michael's and captioned with 'We want to follow in our Daddy's footsteps, but he has some BIG shoes to fill!)
I then ushered the boys out so Michael could go back to sleep for a bit and that he did. By the time we started functioning and getting ready for church, we realized we were a bit behind schedule. Commenting that we were going to be late, Rob responded with "Oh no! Pastor's gonna be mad at us!"
I think it had less to with the wrath of the pastor and more to do with fact they were already 10-15 minutes late by the time we loaded everyone in and still had a 10 minute drive ahead of us that led us to opt for a stop at Donut Connection in leu of church. (Great example to set huh? I guess we're all entitled to an error here and there....)
The afternoon entailed a visit with Michael's family and some quiet time. We planned to finish out the evening with a nice dinner out with my mom and grandparents. That didn't go exactly as planned... To put it bluntly, by the end of the meal, I was being approached by others telling me "We remember these days, but really they do pass." We knew one family who has a daughter a year older than Ray. They mentioned that they've always wanted a little boy and I was ready to give them one. A 4 year old specifically.
I left the restaurant carrying two screaming and kicking children to the Yukon, Rob broke away. I sternly said, "Get in the truck now." A man was leaving his own vehicle popped his own tailgate and said, "Here you go. You heard your mom. Get in the trunk now." You have to love when a stranger can help you smile through the grim circumstances. Rob wasn't as sure.
When we got to the Yukon he informed me that he did in fact want to go with that new family. "Okay then, would you like carrying your lightsaber to their car?" He changed his mind real fast.
The drive home proved interesting as well. Rob decided to unbuckle himself and unlock his car door. He was pretty sure he was going to get out and go live with Nana. We pulled over, re-buckeled and relocked. The second time I was even smart enough to move the child lock switch up making it impossible for him to open the door from the inside. He continued unbuckling more times than I can count. It was a long drive home with us pulling over every 5 feet...
Happy Father's Day Michael! Happy Father's Day! At least we got you this nice story to remember forever right???
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Splish Splash!
So last night, I had 3 very grubby looking little men. Maybe it was from playing the sand table. Maybe it was from jumping on the black trampoline tarp. Maybe it was from digging in the mud. Maybe it's simply because they are boys and it's summer.
Irregardless, I have come with a stellar bath routine at our house that seems to please all. Sam is as happy as a clam to get the tun in the boys bathroom all to his lonesome. Ray and Rob think it's super sweet that I let them lounge in my big corner tub down the hall. I adore that they are all getting clean at the same time without the fight of who goes first or has to get out so someone else can get in. (We've had more than occasion of a dry and pajama clad child climbing back into the tub as he thought he was missing out on all the sudsy fun.) I can flit and float down the hall between the two to keep an eye on all the splashing and make an attempt to keep the majority of the water in the tub.
Last night, I was on my back from the master bath to the boys bathroom to check in on Sam. Sam LOVES bathtime. Getting him in is never an issue, but out is sometimes a challenge. As I rounded the corner, I was surprised to see Sam half in and half out of the tub. I rushed over to assist him and asked, "Sam, what are you doing?"
In his perfect 2 (and almost 1/2) gibberish he said, "I get out. Water Mama! Water got me all wet!"
Um, well, yeah. That's kinda how it works. I was confused momentarily. After all, Sam is a fish in the tub. As he began swiping at the bubbles on his tummy, I realized it was more of the soap bubbles that he was having issue with, but still thought his kid quote of the day was pretty priceless!
I did manage to wrangle him back into the tub long enough to give his knees the scrubbing they had coming. As I dried him off, I noticed his feet were still not perfectly clean. Sigh. Oh, well. It's not like they'd stay clean for long!
Irregardless, I have come with a stellar bath routine at our house that seems to please all. Sam is as happy as a clam to get the tun in the boys bathroom all to his lonesome. Ray and Rob think it's super sweet that I let them lounge in my big corner tub down the hall. I adore that they are all getting clean at the same time without the fight of who goes first or has to get out so someone else can get in. (We've had more than occasion of a dry and pajama clad child climbing back into the tub as he thought he was missing out on all the sudsy fun.) I can flit and float down the hall between the two to keep an eye on all the splashing and make an attempt to keep the majority of the water in the tub.
Last night, I was on my back from the master bath to the boys bathroom to check in on Sam. Sam LOVES bathtime. Getting him in is never an issue, but out is sometimes a challenge. As I rounded the corner, I was surprised to see Sam half in and half out of the tub. I rushed over to assist him and asked, "Sam, what are you doing?"
In his perfect 2 (and almost 1/2) gibberish he said, "I get out. Water Mama! Water got me all wet!"
Um, well, yeah. That's kinda how it works. I was confused momentarily. After all, Sam is a fish in the tub. As he began swiping at the bubbles on his tummy, I realized it was more of the soap bubbles that he was having issue with, but still thought his kid quote of the day was pretty priceless!
I did manage to wrangle him back into the tub long enough to give his knees the scrubbing they had coming. As I dried him off, I noticed his feet were still not perfectly clean. Sigh. Oh, well. It's not like they'd stay clean for long!
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Slipping and a Sliding
The weather earlier this week was, well HOT. Welcome to Minnesota. One day, you're wishing for some spring like weather as you zip up your fleece, and the next day, you're doing anything you can to cool off during a 105 degree heat index. (By the way, I wore a fleece again yesterday.)
To keep the kiddos cool, I let them run through the sprinkler. What child doesn't love streaking through a freezing cold spray of water? (I know that sounded rhetorical, but Sam.) After an afternoon of sprinkler fun, I thought it might be fun to getting an upgrade. We went to Target and perused the aisles looking for some form of water entertainment while still maintaining my need for frugality. When Ray spotted the tunnel of water slip and slide contraption on sale for $4.99, how could I resist? I had fond childhood memories of slipping and sliding on cold wet plastic so why shouldn't they?
The next afternoon, the boys and I donned our swimwear, opened up the box, unfolded the tarp, staked it into place, stretched out the hose and connected it. Ray raced over the spicket, eager to turn on the water and have a wet and wild time. As the water began flowing through the hose and into the thin plastic tube on the slip and slide, my mom's voice echoed into my head. "These things are always junk!"
And junk it was. The plastic tubing burst open and instead of water streaming into the slip and slide and up over it in an arch, it gushed all around my feet in a sloppy mud puddle.
"Turn off the faucet Ray!"
"Why?"
"It's broken."
"What?!?! We JUST got it! How can it be broken already?"
"I don't know hun. I guess it just isn't very well made."
Ray started stomping and pouting and looked rather pitiful. I looked at the things lying around our yard and decided we might as well still have some fun.
"It's alright bud. We still have the plastic spread out and we still have a hose. I'll spray the tarp and you boys can still slip and slide."
I did not get the response I imagined. Instead, I got continued stomping, pouting and carrying on.
"Ray, what's wrong? I said we can still make it work."
"It's just that I wanted to use it properly. Is that really too much to ask?"
"I would rather use it properly too, but it's broken, so that's not an option at this point."
"I mean, we spend good money on something. It was a lot of money Mom, and then it just goes and breaks like that? It just ins't right!"
I inwardly smirk but outwardly show sympathy and agree, "Yes, Ray, I understand, but it really wasn't that much money for this and we can try and exchange it later, but since it's already out, we might as well try it and see if you even like it."
"But we CAN'T use it THAT way. I am suppose to slide through a 'tunnel of water.' That's what it said on the box."
I think but don't say, "Ray, your aspergers is showing." Instead, I glance around the yard, spot the sprinkler and suggest we hook it up next to the slip and slide and we can still have a 'tunnel of water' to slide through.
Ray's face lights up at this suggestion and we are set. After some fun in that manner, Ray relocates the sprinkler to the swing set slide for some new fun. I then relocate the tarp to the end of the slide for a longer pathway.
Ray and Rob have a blast with water and plastic without any further major incidences. I smile to myself watching them from the swing and can't help but think, "THIS is the stuff fond childhood memories are made from."
To keep the kiddos cool, I let them run through the sprinkler. What child doesn't love streaking through a freezing cold spray of water? (I know that sounded rhetorical, but Sam.) After an afternoon of sprinkler fun, I thought it might be fun to getting an upgrade. We went to Target and perused the aisles looking for some form of water entertainment while still maintaining my need for frugality. When Ray spotted the tunnel of water slip and slide contraption on sale for $4.99, how could I resist? I had fond childhood memories of slipping and sliding on cold wet plastic so why shouldn't they?
The next afternoon, the boys and I donned our swimwear, opened up the box, unfolded the tarp, staked it into place, stretched out the hose and connected it. Ray raced over the spicket, eager to turn on the water and have a wet and wild time. As the water began flowing through the hose and into the thin plastic tube on the slip and slide, my mom's voice echoed into my head. "These things are always junk!"
And junk it was. The plastic tubing burst open and instead of water streaming into the slip and slide and up over it in an arch, it gushed all around my feet in a sloppy mud puddle.
"Turn off the faucet Ray!"
"Why?"
"It's broken."
"What?!?! We JUST got it! How can it be broken already?"
"I don't know hun. I guess it just isn't very well made."
Ray started stomping and pouting and looked rather pitiful. I looked at the things lying around our yard and decided we might as well still have some fun.
"It's alright bud. We still have the plastic spread out and we still have a hose. I'll spray the tarp and you boys can still slip and slide."
I did not get the response I imagined. Instead, I got continued stomping, pouting and carrying on.
"Ray, what's wrong? I said we can still make it work."
"It's just that I wanted to use it properly. Is that really too much to ask?"
"I would rather use it properly too, but it's broken, so that's not an option at this point."
"I mean, we spend good money on something. It was a lot of money Mom, and then it just goes and breaks like that? It just ins't right!"
I inwardly smirk but outwardly show sympathy and agree, "Yes, Ray, I understand, but it really wasn't that much money for this and we can try and exchange it later, but since it's already out, we might as well try it and see if you even like it."
"But we CAN'T use it THAT way. I am suppose to slide through a 'tunnel of water.' That's what it said on the box."
I think but don't say, "Ray, your aspergers is showing." Instead, I glance around the yard, spot the sprinkler and suggest we hook it up next to the slip and slide and we can still have a 'tunnel of water' to slide through.
Ray's face lights up at this suggestion and we are set. After some fun in that manner, Ray relocates the sprinkler to the swing set slide for some new fun. I then relocate the tarp to the end of the slide for a longer pathway.
Ray and Rob have a blast with water and plastic without any further major incidences. I smile to myself watching them from the swing and can't help but think, "THIS is the stuff fond childhood memories are made from."
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Won't You Play With Me?
One would think that having two brothers you always have someone to play with. Or maybe it's because he has two brothers and ALWAYS has someone to play with. Whatever the reason, I had to laugh out loud today when I saw Ray setting up a game of battleship and telling his brother that it was NOT intended for him.
"WHAT?!" was Rob's stunned response, "How are you going to play battleship all by yourself?"
I also wondered the same thing, but Ray obviously had it all planned out. He didn't hesitate for a minute when he said, "I'm gonna play the game Bobby Joe Pickler. It's Bobby Joe versus Bobby Joe Pickler."
Huh? Don't worry, that was my thought too. Ray set up the game with battleships on both sides and smiled a smug grin as he told me that he was on Bobby Joe Pickler's team. "We have a massive fleet and they have a really small one."
I guess that's one benefit to playing with an imaginary opponent and you set the board up yourself!
"WHAT?!" was Rob's stunned response, "How are you going to play battleship all by yourself?"
I also wondered the same thing, but Ray obviously had it all planned out. He didn't hesitate for a minute when he said, "I'm gonna play the game Bobby Joe Pickler. It's Bobby Joe versus Bobby Joe Pickler."
Huh? Don't worry, that was my thought too. Ray set up the game with battleships on both sides and smiled a smug grin as he told me that he was on Bobby Joe Pickler's team. "We have a massive fleet and they have a really small one."
I guess that's one benefit to playing with an imaginary opponent and you set the board up yourself!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Peas in a Pod
We are enjoying our lazy days of summer vacation. After a nice quiet morning at the library, we ran a few errands and played outside for a bit before lunch. As I am finishing getting lunch on plates, the boys are circled round the table munching on slices of tomato and cucumbers and gabbing a bit.
Honestly, I'm only half listening to the conversation, but my ears perk when I hear "P." With having all boys, they find bathroom humor VERY funny. Pretty much anything can be made in a gut busting joke if you insert a word like pee, fart, poop, potty, well you get the idea. Now I'm an advocate for free speech and all, but some things do not need to be discussed in certain places, like around the table. I also know that attempting to abolish something altogether often times only amplifies the desire to do it. That is why we make it very clear that you are welcome to discuss these natural body occurrences all you like, but you must do so in the proper place: the bathroom. So as I was saying, I perked up my ears to hear the context of their conversation. From my vantage point near the stove, I hear some giggling and "P" continues to surface. I begin to prepare myself to invite the boys to continue their discussion in the bathroom when I hear this.
"P. Rob. It is a letter too you know."
"Yea, I know. I am four! It looks like the letter at the end of my name."
"No, your name has a b. Not a p. R-o-b. Not R-o-p."
"R-o-p? That sounds silly!!"
"Huh. I never thought about how much p and b sound the same. Well, their names, not their sounds. And they do look a lot alike too, but b's line goes up and p's line goes down." As a reading teacher with my almost master's in literacy, this conversation was melting my heart! Talk about metacognition at work! Do you think I could find a way to squeeze this into my capstone project?
Ray continued on, "Rob, did you know there is another kind of P? There's the bathroom kind, the letter AND the one we eat. And they are all spelt different!"
Rob finds this humorous and starts giggling. "I like to eat peas." (I can't help but wondering if he's really thinking of the vegetable pea or still stuck on the idea pee as in urine....)
"P! P! P!" chimes in Sam.
"UH!!! Sam is saying P, P, P!" Rob alerts everyone.
"He's talking about the little green kind. Right Sam?" Ray scrunches his forefinger into a small ball and peers through it at Sam. "You mean the little circle peas we eat right Sam?"
"Yup, uh-huh," nods Sam enthusiastically.
"Whew," says Rob. "Mom, is our macaroni ready now?"
"Yes sir. Here it is. Let's eat!" I grab the plates and forks with a smile on my face thinking that I am so blessed to have these three little peas in a pod.
Honestly, I'm only half listening to the conversation, but my ears perk when I hear "P." With having all boys, they find bathroom humor VERY funny. Pretty much anything can be made in a gut busting joke if you insert a word like pee, fart, poop, potty, well you get the idea. Now I'm an advocate for free speech and all, but some things do not need to be discussed in certain places, like around the table. I also know that attempting to abolish something altogether often times only amplifies the desire to do it. That is why we make it very clear that you are welcome to discuss these natural body occurrences all you like, but you must do so in the proper place: the bathroom. So as I was saying, I perked up my ears to hear the context of their conversation. From my vantage point near the stove, I hear some giggling and "P" continues to surface. I begin to prepare myself to invite the boys to continue their discussion in the bathroom when I hear this.
"P. Rob. It is a letter too you know."
"Yea, I know. I am four! It looks like the letter at the end of my name."
"No, your name has a b. Not a p. R-o-b. Not R-o-p."
"R-o-p? That sounds silly!!"
"Huh. I never thought about how much p and b sound the same. Well, their names, not their sounds. And they do look a lot alike too, but b's line goes up and p's line goes down." As a reading teacher with my almost master's in literacy, this conversation was melting my heart! Talk about metacognition at work! Do you think I could find a way to squeeze this into my capstone project?
Ray continued on, "Rob, did you know there is another kind of P? There's the bathroom kind, the letter AND the one we eat. And they are all spelt different!"
Rob finds this humorous and starts giggling. "I like to eat peas." (I can't help but wondering if he's really thinking of the vegetable pea or still stuck on the idea pee as in urine....)
"P! P! P!" chimes in Sam.
"UH!!! Sam is saying P, P, P!" Rob alerts everyone.
"He's talking about the little green kind. Right Sam?" Ray scrunches his forefinger into a small ball and peers through it at Sam. "You mean the little circle peas we eat right Sam?"
"Yup, uh-huh," nods Sam enthusiastically.
"Whew," says Rob. "Mom, is our macaroni ready now?"
"Yes sir. Here it is. Let's eat!" I grab the plates and forks with a smile on my face thinking that I am so blessed to have these three little peas in a pod.
| My 3 peas in a pod |
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
I Never Knew Branson could be THIS exciting!!! Are we there yet??? The 2nd morning
The next morning, I woke up and lay in my bed enjoying the stillness and quietness. I love those minutes before everyone else is awake and I can be alone with my thoughts. I considered getting a jumpstart on the day but knew it'd spoil the quiet moment so I continued to drift somewhere between conciseness and sleep, where dreams and thoughts meld until it is hard to separate reality from fantasy when I heard a gurgling noise from the other side of the room. Was this a dream or reality? I didn't wait to find out. I whipped the covers off myself and headed towards the source of the noise: Sam's pack and play. It sounded like he was filling his pants and it sounded loose and messy. Sigh. "Great," I thought, "What a way to start the day."
As I approached the pack and play, I heard a new sound, retching. Poor baby! I got the his side as he vomited all over his blankets and jammies. I scooped him up and went straight into the bathroom. I held him in the tub as he continued to be sick. When he seemed to have it, and everything else out of his system, I began the process of cleaning him up. I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of cleaning up bodily fluids of that sort in a small motel bathroom with limited resources, but it's not fun, just in case you were wondering. While I peeled and rinsed Sam, Michael went to the desk to figure out what we needed to do to gain access to the laundry room. While I left Sam in the tub to soak, I wrote up a list and sent Michael off to the store for some supplies. Disinfecting wipes, Pepto for kids, Sierra Mist, etc. We pawned the healthy boys off on the rents while I continued laundry and clean up duties and Michael found a store.
Once I had the clothes in the dryer, I decided to head down to the motel's breakfast bar area and find something to eat. Sam seemed to be feeling fine at this point and wanted out of the dingy little room as badly as I did so we set off down the hall together. As I browsed through the breakfast options, Sam kept trying to open cupboard doors or head out into the lobby. He loves to explore and hide. I kept asking him if he would like anything to eat and to stay put. I found a danish for myself and turned to zap it in the microwave and in the instant I turned back around, I noticed Sam's absence.
I immediately began to open the cupboard doors, but he wasn't there. I walked out into the lobby, he wasn't there. Every time I looked into a nook and cranny and didn't discover Sam, my heart beat faster and faster. The woman working asked if I needed anything, I didn't want to say it out loud, but knew I needed to.
"My two year old took off. We were getting breakfast and the next thing I knew, he was gone. He loves to hide and calling for him only makes it worse. You didn't see him by chance did you?"
She had not seen him but joined me in my hunt. By the time we had searched the whole lobby area and came up empty handed, I felt like my heart was about to beat right out of my chest.
"I'm going to head to our room. Maybe he wandered that way," I told the woman.
"I'll head down the other hall," she replied.
I tore off down the hallway headed back to our room praying I would see him around each bend or by a door knocking on it with his little impish grin. As I searched, I kept praying in my head, "God, keep him safe. Help me find. Help me stay calm. Crying isn't going to do any good. Help to keep my head clear Lord. Guide me to him."
It was no use; Sam was not in any of the hallways. I must have look panic stricken because a gentleman in the hallway asked me if I needed help.
"Have you seen a two year old wandering down this way? My son is missing."
"No I haven't ma'm. Do you need help looking for him?"
"I'm on my way to get my family, but thank you."
When I reached out corridor, I banged on my parent's and grandparent's door.
"Sam is missing. I need your help. We were getting breakfast and the next thing I knew, he was gone! I can't find him anywhere." At this point, I was beginning to loose the battle to fight back tears. I choked back the ones that were pooling in my eyes and everyone set out right away.
By this point, Sam could be anywhere. Could he have gotten outside? Not on his own. But what if sneaked out behind someone with an armload of luggage? Worse yet, what if someone picked him up and took? He would scream right? Surely, someone would have noticed.
By now there were about ten of us hunting inside and outside. I headed back to ask the woman from the front desk if maybe we needed to call the police. Sam had now been missing for the longest 5-10 minutes of my life. Suddenly, near the lobby, I heard a noise. It sounded a little like a shout or a cry, but it was muffled. I couldn't be sure what direction it had come from, neither could the woman. She hadn't even heard it.
"Again Sam! Cry again!"
We both stood completely still. Listening. Waiting. Holding our breath.
"Mama!"
"Sam?"
Our eyes locked and we both tore off down the hall in the direction it had come from. We hit a T in the hall. I went left. She turned right.
"Mama!"
"Sam?"
I knew I was closing in. He had to be in one of these rooms, but which one?
"One more time Sammi, one more time!"
"Mama!" It was louder this time, but still muffled. I pressed my ear to a door and listened. I heard nothing.
"Sammi??"
"MAMA! MAMA! Help me! MAMA MAMA!"
"I'm right here Sammi! Mama's coming. I'm right here! I found him! I found him! He's in locked in this room!"
The woman came running from the other direction and immediately began apologizing. "I don't have a key on me! I'm so sorry! I'll be right back!" and she headed back toward the desk.
"MAMA! MAMA! Help me! MAMA MAMA!"
"It's okay Sammi. Mama's right here. I just have to get this door open."
Anticipation griped at me as my mind began to wonder if he was alone in there. What if someone had taken him in the room? What if he wasn't alone?
The woman returned with key and I only thought for a split second if we should open the door or have one of the men do it. We opened the door and there was Sam. His face lit up with the grin when he's been hiding and is found. I scooped him up and there was no holding back the tears anymore, the damn broke free and my wet cheek kissed his. I looked back to the woman who had helped me find my son and saw her face was as tear stained as my own.
"I have a son too," she said. "I'm so glad we found him. I'm so glad he's okay."
I honestly don't remember what happened next, but I do remember feeling like a crushing weight had been lifted off my chest as it became easier to breathe again and thinking that Sam now owned #1 and #2 on my scariest mom moments list.
As I approached the pack and play, I heard a new sound, retching. Poor baby! I got the his side as he vomited all over his blankets and jammies. I scooped him up and went straight into the bathroom. I held him in the tub as he continued to be sick. When he seemed to have it, and everything else out of his system, I began the process of cleaning him up. I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of cleaning up bodily fluids of that sort in a small motel bathroom with limited resources, but it's not fun, just in case you were wondering. While I peeled and rinsed Sam, Michael went to the desk to figure out what we needed to do to gain access to the laundry room. While I left Sam in the tub to soak, I wrote up a list and sent Michael off to the store for some supplies. Disinfecting wipes, Pepto for kids, Sierra Mist, etc. We pawned the healthy boys off on the rents while I continued laundry and clean up duties and Michael found a store.
Once I had the clothes in the dryer, I decided to head down to the motel's breakfast bar area and find something to eat. Sam seemed to be feeling fine at this point and wanted out of the dingy little room as badly as I did so we set off down the hall together. As I browsed through the breakfast options, Sam kept trying to open cupboard doors or head out into the lobby. He loves to explore and hide. I kept asking him if he would like anything to eat and to stay put. I found a danish for myself and turned to zap it in the microwave and in the instant I turned back around, I noticed Sam's absence.
I immediately began to open the cupboard doors, but he wasn't there. I walked out into the lobby, he wasn't there. Every time I looked into a nook and cranny and didn't discover Sam, my heart beat faster and faster. The woman working asked if I needed anything, I didn't want to say it out loud, but knew I needed to.
"My two year old took off. We were getting breakfast and the next thing I knew, he was gone. He loves to hide and calling for him only makes it worse. You didn't see him by chance did you?"
She had not seen him but joined me in my hunt. By the time we had searched the whole lobby area and came up empty handed, I felt like my heart was about to beat right out of my chest.
"I'm going to head to our room. Maybe he wandered that way," I told the woman.
"I'll head down the other hall," she replied.
I tore off down the hallway headed back to our room praying I would see him around each bend or by a door knocking on it with his little impish grin. As I searched, I kept praying in my head, "God, keep him safe. Help me find. Help me stay calm. Crying isn't going to do any good. Help to keep my head clear Lord. Guide me to him."
It was no use; Sam was not in any of the hallways. I must have look panic stricken because a gentleman in the hallway asked me if I needed help.
"Have you seen a two year old wandering down this way? My son is missing."
"No I haven't ma'm. Do you need help looking for him?"
"I'm on my way to get my family, but thank you."
When I reached out corridor, I banged on my parent's and grandparent's door.
"Sam is missing. I need your help. We were getting breakfast and the next thing I knew, he was gone! I can't find him anywhere." At this point, I was beginning to loose the battle to fight back tears. I choked back the ones that were pooling in my eyes and everyone set out right away.
By this point, Sam could be anywhere. Could he have gotten outside? Not on his own. But what if sneaked out behind someone with an armload of luggage? Worse yet, what if someone picked him up and took? He would scream right? Surely, someone would have noticed.
By now there were about ten of us hunting inside and outside. I headed back to ask the woman from the front desk if maybe we needed to call the police. Sam had now been missing for the longest 5-10 minutes of my life. Suddenly, near the lobby, I heard a noise. It sounded a little like a shout or a cry, but it was muffled. I couldn't be sure what direction it had come from, neither could the woman. She hadn't even heard it.
"Again Sam! Cry again!"
We both stood completely still. Listening. Waiting. Holding our breath.
"Mama!"
"Sam?"
Our eyes locked and we both tore off down the hall in the direction it had come from. We hit a T in the hall. I went left. She turned right.
"Mama!"
"Sam?"
I knew I was closing in. He had to be in one of these rooms, but which one?
"One more time Sammi, one more time!"
"Mama!" It was louder this time, but still muffled. I pressed my ear to a door and listened. I heard nothing.
"Sammi??"
"MAMA! MAMA! Help me! MAMA MAMA!"
"I'm right here Sammi! Mama's coming. I'm right here! I found him! I found him! He's in locked in this room!"
The woman came running from the other direction and immediately began apologizing. "I don't have a key on me! I'm so sorry! I'll be right back!" and she headed back toward the desk.
"MAMA! MAMA! Help me! MAMA MAMA!"
"It's okay Sammi. Mama's right here. I just have to get this door open."
Anticipation griped at me as my mind began to wonder if he was alone in there. What if someone had taken him in the room? What if he wasn't alone?
The woman returned with key and I only thought for a split second if we should open the door or have one of the men do it. We opened the door and there was Sam. His face lit up with the grin when he's been hiding and is found. I scooped him up and there was no holding back the tears anymore, the damn broke free and my wet cheek kissed his. I looked back to the woman who had helped me find my son and saw her face was as tear stained as my own.
"I have a son too," she said. "I'm so glad we found him. I'm so glad he's okay."
I honestly don't remember what happened next, but I do remember feeling like a crushing weight had been lifted off my chest as it became easier to breathe again and thinking that Sam now owned #1 and #2 on my scariest mom moments list.
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