...When You Lose Your Boys

The first time I lost (and I mean really lost) one of my kids was about two years ago at the mall.  At the time, I had Lucy in the baby carrier with Gus tagging along.  We were in a department store.  Gus purposefully ran away from me... and ran fast.  Before I knew it, he was out of sight.  This department store not only had one large entry way into the mall, but it also had several exits to the parking lot.  He must have been missing for 20 minutes before the security guards found him.

A Boy & His Legos (Noah, age 6)

After Timmy was born, Nick and I thought it would be fun to take all five kids to Legoland.  Ultimately, we had a blast!  However, we had another scare at the water park.  Somehow, Noah disappeared.  Nick and I were so confused, because there was no where for him to have gone, yet he was no where in sight.  Nick was so nervous and began searching the water park.  I felt very... how do you say?... "experienced."  I knew a five-year-old-Noah would have much better family-finding skills than a two-year-old-Gus.  Thankfully, a lifeguard reunited us with our son after about 10 minutes.

Before you write me off as a careless, irresponsible, neglectful parent, read this next anecdote:

One Sunday, we had just come home from Mass.  Gus had been upset in the car, likely over a consequence he earned.  We all bounded into the house to eat, play, and relax.  The kids immediately started playing a game while I was in the kitchen.  I noticed that Gus was not playing with the other kids.

"Hey, where's Gus?"

"He's hiding in the other room," the kids told me.

Gus, age 4

"Ah, okay."  You see, Gus loves to hide.  It's pretty much his favorite hobby.  Plus, he's pretty darn good at it.  He finds good hiding places and waits.  Silently.  Once, we were at my cousins' and realized he was missing.  We started frantically searching and calling for him and walking up the street, only to find him hiding from us up in a tree.  So, when Miriam and Noah told me he was hiding, I didn't think anything of it.

I then remembered I needed an oil change and beckoned my knight to go get me one.  About ten minutes later, the phone rang.  I answered.  It was Nick.

"I have a stowaway," he says.

My jaw dropped.  Apparently, after Mass, Gus had never come into the house.  He had climbed into the trunk of the mini van.  And sat there.  Silently.  Even while Nick started the car and drove all the way to the shop to get the oil change.

Okay.  Now you can judge me as a careless, irresponsible, neglectful parent.  I will stop there.  I am prudently restraining this post to instances of losing my boys.  The girl stories might show up in the future.

Last one.  I promise.

Yesterday, Timmy stood up by himself.  I look at him and my heart wrenches.  In nine short months, I have seen this beautiful baby get pricked and poked, undergo blood transfusions, learn to crawl, eat dirt, laugh uncontrollably, and bring joy to our home in an indescribable way.  Now that Timmy is this incredible mobile and social being, I see that I am losing my baby.

Then

Now(ish)

Then I look at Gus.  He has become such a sweet kid who loves school and adores all his siblings.  He'll do anything to please Miriam and Noah, and he'll do anything to protect Lucy and Timmy.

And Noah.  He reads now, and plays piano.  He can beat any video game and build any Lego kit you give him.

The 20 minutes I lost Gus in the mall felt like an eternity.  Yet, what's even scarier is that what they all say might actually be true: these years go by too fast.  I pray that when I lose my boys, I will have at least gained three more wonderful, God-fearing men in my life.

Miriam Received the Sacrament of Reconciliation (Feb. 2019, age 8)

She's a Girl Like No Other! (Lucy, age 2.5)

Fake-Sleeping Selfie Taken by My #1

... When It's All Literal

In first grade, Miriam completes a book report every week.  For several weeks in a row, she was assigned Amelia Bedelia books.  Remember those?  I used to love them.  As is our habit, all the kids would huddle around me as I read the "new" book for the first time.  They were engaged; they enjoyed it. -- but they didn't get it.

Though Miriam has had her own share of developmental struggles, reading comprehension has never been one of them.  As I read the first Amelia Bedelia aloud, I knew she was going to have a hard time with the reading comprehension test.  You see, Amelia Bedelia is entirely literal... and so are my children.  They didn't get why Amelia Bedelia wouldn't be selling pieces of her lawn and plants at her yard sale.  I tried to explain why the scenario was supposed to be funny, and I even believed that they understood.  However, a few days later we were admiring a neighbor's plant and Noah asked, "Oh!  Maybe we can buy it if they have a yard sale!"

I love the literalism of children.  Its innocence and truth are so endearing.  Their literal interpretations can pull me out of grouch and grump.  Consider these anecdotes:

Grandma & Dido at Ukrainian Christmas in California

The kids were fighting in the back seat of the mini van.  Fighting while I'm driving, though a common occurrence, is a huge pet peeve of mine.  "JUST DROP IT!"  I yelled.  Dead silence.  Then a confused voice piped up, "Drop what, Mommy?  We're not holding anything."

Lucy, super excited to be TWO!

Miriam and Gus were having a conversation, in which they were conceiving hypothetical scenarios.  Whatever the scenario was, Miriam inquired of Gus, "But wouldn't that just break your heart?"  Gus replied, "No.  Why would that break my heart?  The only thing that could break my heart was if I died."

Hockey Game with Tot

I was drawing a bath for Lucy.  Gus comes in with an ever-so-urgent request for me.  Frustrated, I snapped, "Wait a minute!  I'm in the middle of something."  Pause.  Then, Gus responds, "No.  Actually, you're kind of on the left-ish side."

Somehow, Miriam turned 7 (today!)

At the end of the day, I'd love to buy a nice fruit tree at a yard sale.  And wouldn't it often be easier to drop an object than an argument?  Oh, how I would love to see what images dance in the kids' heads during the consecration at Mass.  Yet, something tells me that they see Christ's Body and Blood much more virtuously than I do.