I know this about myself. Those who love me know this about me. Sister Cat once spent an entire day helping me sort through my childhood stuff to find what was precious and worth holding onto vs. what was trash. It was damn near the HARDEST thing I’ve ever done. HARDER THAN LABOR. Seriously. See, I couldn’t displace it because the pain was in my soul, not my body.
This is not to say that I don’t ever lose things. I sure do. And when I do, it’s usually an item of crazy importance or value. A brand new iPhone – yep, lost one of those. Several hundred of dollars in CA$H, yes. I don’t want to talk about. Suffice to say: When mama fucks up, she does it big. And it is devastating to me in so many ways – so, ya know, I go pretty far to avoid it.
You know who does lose things? Kids. It’s the way it is, and the way they learn valuable life lessons, I guess. Oh man, it kills me every damn time one of my kids misplace something. I have gone searching for lost loveys all over stores and neighborhoods. I know how devastating it is to me and I want to spare them, and me, the pain. For a while my son had a really bad habit of throwing things when we were out & expecting them to come back. Too much Toy Story, probably. He believes his toys will find a way to get home. They didn’t & he’s gotten better about doing it. Lesson learned.
I’m being honest here, so let’s also say I’m a little OCD about their toys. Maybe that’s an understatement. It drives me INSANE when we go to play with something and it’s not all there, and then in that moment its a panic & Boy is whining or Girl is repeating the same request over and over. My head just started thumping on one side with remembered anxiety.
When we go out there are things that do not leave the house. At this point in our lives they are too easily lost or fought over in public play grounds and, again, I no longer want to spend my day retracing my steps for something that fell off the stroller tray when (God forbid) I wasn’t looking. Or that becomes cause for my son to beat yours up in the sandbox. I don’t have the patience for that sort of thing. Control issues? Check.
So as I go along about my day I’m always keeping an eye on the Special Toys. The current loves of my children’s lives. Frequently, when I see them discarded out of the way, I’ll scoop them up and put them on a dresser or in the bed. Because ultimately it is easier for me. If my kid is whining about where his favorite dinosaur is, I can tell him it’s on his bed. Problem solved. I don’t have to go searching while his crazy gets out of control & my patience wanes.
But hey, that is my JOB. I’m an at home mommy. My job is to know which things are important today & where they are. Pretty much at all times. I patrol my apartment like a prison guard, counting inmates & watching for new gang members. It is not my husband’s job. I get that. He doesn’t have the time or patience to pay attention to those details in the same way I do, because he has 2 buildings to keep an eye on all day, while I’m with the 2 kids.
Which is I why I shouldn’t be so annoyed by what happened last night. For those who aren’t friends on Facebook, I will explain. I left the apartment at 5:30 for yoga. When I got back about 8:30 it was bedtime for kiddos. Only no Foxy was to be found. We searched, nothing. Got the kids in bed. Searched again. Nowhere. This is not possible. She must be here somewhere. They didn’t go out. No one came over. All I kept thinking was, “How could he have let Foxy get misplaced??!!”
If you don’t know already, Foxy is Winter Girl’s little lovey. Only about 5″ high, and easily held & cuddled by my wee girl. She is the baby of a set from Ikea. Girl LOVES her. She is the Velveteen Rabbit of our home – Foxy is most certainly Real.
She has gone missing before. A couple of weeks before Christmas. My husband and I were both confident Foxy had not left the apartment. After we tore the place apart and couldn’t find her, we had to reluctantly conclude she’d been been lost while everyone was distracted on a walk to the car.
Again, being honest, I was probably more upset than Winter Girl. She looked, and asked for Foxy, but she was fairly satisfied with Mama Foxy at bedtime and other small companions throughout the day. About a week later – when life had started to move on without mention of Foxy – my husband found her where he had apparently stashed her leaving that morning – IN HIS COAT POCKET. Seriously??!! Buttmunch. But ok she was found
When it came to Girl’s love for Foxy, well, absence certainly made the heart grow fonder. Now when we are getting her in the stroller, Girl will ask for Foxy if she’s not already clinched in a little chubby fist. When Foxy falls/is thrown out of the crib, there is a clear wail of “MOMMY – I NEED FOXY!”
So naturally, I tore the apartment upside down this morning. Every drawer, every bin, every closet. Nothing.
Until 5 minutes ago.
With renewed purpose I took a break from writing this rant to check in all the toy bins again. And damned if I didn’t find her! Way in the back of the basket of blocks. I don’t know how either my husband or I could have missed her there. It’s not like she blends in – she’s orange and plush, for Pete’s sake.
Unless… No, I’m not going to even type that… Let’s just say maybe I’ve been watching a little too much Toy Story too.