I know I haven’t written in a long time. I haven’t had the motivation. I haven’t had anything to say. I feel like I’ve been in a spring time funk with bad weather, bad health, and a perpetual bad mood. But I thought I’d catch up via some pictures of the past few weeks.
I took pictures of the littles in the Provo Orchard. I do think they are lovelies.
Awww . . .
I really like this one. I think it’s magical.
That red stuff: nailpolish. For as much as is on his leg, there was just as much on the carpet. Text to Wyatt read: “What ever you think you’re going to do to Calvin, I’ve already done it. Just remember, this is why we chose the cheap carpet!”
We went to Manti over memorial day weekend for some VERY MUCH needed R&R. We went on “be-ventures” in the field, Cal needed to be carried of course.
Olivia looked for treasure.
And with every treasure she found, suggested with great enthusiasm that we call the museum.
I spy with my little eye . . .
Even Everett got into the spirit of it! (Of course, he wanted to put all the treasures in his mouth).
I went to St. George for a day to help my sister with her wedding plans. I returned with bird houses for the kids to paint.
We had a summer treat night under our tree . . . the light positively GLOWED as a storm threatened for hours over head. Finally it exploded upon us, complete with lightening and theatricals. We moved to the porch where more treats and conversation were consumed beneath the drama.
Today was the day all my insecurities as a mother rose up and stared me in the face. Today I lost him.
How do you describe the panic that you feel? How do you convey the physical shaking you feel as your mind tries to reason in a cloud of despair? How do you explain that it is as bad as it seems, even when everyone reassures you that it’s not. It was as if that mask that I feel I constantly wear – the mother mask – the one that is supposed to know what she’s doing, what is best, what is wise, what is good, what is reasonable, what is perfect in love and example . . . that mask that I feel is just that – a facade – it was stripped off today for all to see what I really am . . . incompetent, uncapable, and not even sorta confident.
It all happened so fast. I was just getting Olivia ready for her dance rehersal. We were in her room as I helped her get her hair done, her costume on. Calvin was there with us. He tried to sit on me as I worked on Olivia. I pushed him off. “I need some personal space” I told him. Seriously: what mother needs personal space? Worse yet, what mother actually says that! I was frustrated, time was short, we were going to be late. Cal got up, he walked away. I didn’t pay attention. I should have paid attention.
Ten-fifteen minutes later we were ready. I started to walk Olivia out. The front door was wide open. I called for Cal. No answer. No sound of toys clanking or dirt being thrown. I called again. Dead silence. I walked around the driveway, to look through the back. No sign of him anywhere. The back gates were all closed tight. I went back in the house, calling: CAL-VIN! CAAAL-VIN! I walked through every room. With each room empty I hurried a little faster to the next. Where was he? I jogged back outside. I circled the yard, opening the heavy gates with latches too high and even circled through the back – just in case. He was no where.
I told Olivia (who has been following me, echoing each “CALVIN!”) to wait on the bench. I jogged up to the Smiths. I barely even waited for them to answer the door. “Have you seen Calvin? Is he here?” That look in Marsha’s eyes: alarm. “No. He’s not here.”
“OK” I tried to mask the panic in my voice, but I knew I needed help.
“Do you want us to help you look for him.”
“Yes.”
Everyone gets up. I just turn and go back out, jogging home to look again.
Through the house – under the beds, under the couches, in the rooms and closets that are locked. “CAAAL-VIN!”He was no where.
I started to make a list of those I saw on my street today: The lawn care company up at Drews, Claire and Clara out for a walk, the post man . . . none seemed to likely to kidnap a little boy . . . but could I be sure? Panic was starting to swell as I considered the possibilities. I ran up and down each neighbors house, most were still at work, I let myself into their yards. I’m sure he’s asleep somewhere. It is the magic hour – where if he’s going to fall asleep, he will. But is it really worth it? I dialed 9-1-1. In the meantime neighbors were coming out as the word was spread: Calvin was missing. Natalie and her kids, Jeff, everyone was walking, calling. I banged on the door of Claire and Clara. I strained to hear Cal as Clara tells me of her walk that day. The thought passed: this is the first time I’ve ever met her. I jogged back.
“Look through the house again.” Jeff told me. “Let Natalie go through the house again.”
Marsha, Natalie, Jeff and I all go in. Cabinets are opened, rooms searched again and again. Jeff walked to the back.
He came out. In that way that can’t be described but to say it was so Jeff: “Calvin is in his bed. He’s asleep.”
I couldn’t decide if he was serious. He was so Jeff about it. But I went in to check. There was Calvin . . . asleep, on the bed, under the covers . . . the bed that I had looked under twice now. I scooped him up and carried him outside for all concerned neighbors to see. The police pulled up just as I came out. Relief, embarrassment, relief, embarrassment, relief. Tears, shaking, swallowing that lump that just won’t go away. Deep breaths. Looks from my neighbors, my friends. I know they aren’t judging me. Worse: they pity me. I know I’m projecting, but I can hear their thoughts: Oh, that poor little mother, can’t even keep track of her children. Can’t even keep calm. Has to alarm the whole neighborhood, has to call the police. She’s probably a horrible mother. Her kids will probably be messed up because of her.
Thankfully everyone dissipated as quickly as they had gathered. I spoke to the police just briefly as they took down our names . . . forever to be recorded in the bad-parenting-book-of-Utah. The whole ordeal was probably only twenty minutes start to finish. I took Olivia to her dance rehersal, and afterwards just drove around, kids quiet in the back, as I contemplated my alarming inadequacies. When I got home Wyatt told me he heard about our misadventure from another neighbor – one I didn’t even realize had known. I’m thankful that he had helped search, but was dismayed to find yet another person in on my little drama. Wyatt tried to assure me . . . everyone tried to assure me. But wow, talk about knocking the wind out of your sails: I felt like a failure on so many levels. It was a horrible day.
