|"Sorry, Barb. Only moms who don't lose their kids get to hang out at the light house. Now, beat it."|
It's Friday, do you know where your kids are? Me either. Oh, wait, no, there's smoke coming from the bathroom and I hear some sort of intense debate going on in broken English, so we're good. I don't always lose my kids, but when I do, it's usually because I'm drinking a Dos Equis or we've stumbled into a world of limited sight and too much sound. A dimension where most of the climate is made up of urine and tears. The laminated sign up ahead?
You're now waddling into...
Letters From the Shallow End of the Baby Pool
Part III: And They Called Her "Outcast"
June 22nd, 2012
It was a sad day, wasn't it? It's always a sad day when you have to band together and watch a stranger's child, while she goes and looks for the one she misplaced. We laughed at her until I realized that the person who lost her child was me, and then I was all like, "Crap, I gotta go."
To the the two skinny blonds who watched Sundance while I ran around like chicken with its head cut off, looking for Butch, thank you. Even though you said you didn't mind, neither of you looked like you were in the market for a new child, so your lies were much appreciated. I wish your unblemished abs and neatly-maintained highlights all the best. I mean that from the bottom of my darkest stretch mark.
To whoever brought my stomach back after it fell out of my butt from fear. Thank you. Although I found Butch talking to another child about whether he should throw his flip flop in the pool or not, I have to thank the invisible individual who tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I believe this fell out of your butt."
"Why, thank you Mr. Guilt. That did just fall out of my butt. It's not every day I lose one of my children and question my very existence and ability to rear offspring to adulthood."
He laughed. "No worries, Mrs. Kellerman. Everyone doesn't pay attention and completely disregards their child walking off into imminent danger, at some point in their lives. I can't think of anyone off the cuff right now, but I know there's someone. I think I may have heard of a blind woman who had twenty children, but the story isn't fresh in my mind or may have never happened."
And so, I gathered Butch away from the big pool and guided him back to the baby pool, where I trembled for a while, packed our things, and took a couple day's hiatus from the concrete basin of shame. Thank you again, Mothering Collective, for not judging me...because you were raising your eyebrows just to tan the bags under your eyes, correct?