Costco has been on my black list for awhile, and shall henceforth be referred to me as the black hole of insanity. I used to have to drive thirty minutes to get to Costco, now I live smack dab within mere miles of not one, but TWO Costcos. Oh the sweet commercialism. It was something I was looking forward to, but no... the
But really, all of that was just me being tired and cranky and still recovering from LOSING ROBBIE. As in, totally lost. As in, call security, file a missing person's report, all employees on deck looking for your child kind of lost. I hadn't planned on going to Ikea, but it's temptingly located next to
Still nothing! I know everyone always says that it feels like their child is missing for hours, when it's really only a couple of minutes...and I didn't start a stop watch or anything, but Jamie and Charlie were clocked in for 37 minutes at childwatch, and except for the very beginning and end, searching for my 22 month old took up most of that time.
I kept thinking why would anyone want to kidnap Robbie? I'd happily give him away (jusssst kidding...I think). Or maybe he'd been abducted by aliens, it all happened so fast. But they finally found him in the Cafe, which... I shoulda guessed he'd head straight for food. Some mom had taken him from there to the mattress showroom where she had a puppet and was saying in a fun silly voice "your mommy will be here aaaany minute" (To my child who didn't look like he was missing his mother at all). I flung my now beyond hysterical self into the scene and snatched my errant child up like the typical, embarrassed blubbering mess most parents are by that point (right?), while I sobbed and thanked everyone within earshot for saving my child (whether they had anything to do with his rescue or not). I was shaking so bad, I was getting those spots around the edges of your vision that let you know you need to sit down or risk going out the hard way. After calming down in the restroom (Robbie of course was stoically happy and chipper than a beaver...if beaver's can be described as chipper), I betook my shameful self home.
I know I signed up for this, it's part of my job description. I'm happy to do it. I like my kids and usually I respond with my own chipper response to all the people who say "THREE boys?". But today I accept my mommy-fail badge and hope no one recognizes me next time I'm back near
And I didn't even get the highchair. They were out of stock. Robbie ate his usual dinner as the family centerpiece.