Remembering...

Daughter and I were talking the other day about loading up the car when you have a baby.

I told her that I had a lot of sympathy for those mother's who leave the kids in the car while they run inside for just 'a second'. You know the one. She has three fevered brows in that car and is all out of Tylenol.

Her.

I make no excuses for her. But, I DO understand what she faces.

Daughter was trying to figure out what or whom to load in first.

Arggggg. I remember those days.

I took Oldest Son to the laundry mat, once. The baby books didn't tell me what to do with the baby while I'm loading all the clean stuff into my car. Let the odd looking man who runs the place hold him for me? I never went by myself again.

Never again did I take all three of them into a store when it took three hands to contain them. I vividly remember pinning one of them up against the car with my thigh while I attempted to load two squirming littler ones into car seats. It wasn't a fun experience. But, they survived childhood, all three of them.

The worst incident of all happened during the time we lived in the inner city. On a very narrow street.

The Husband God Gave Me worked on Monday nights, yet Monday night was the only night the group I met with could meet. I fancied myself as someone who needed this group. This meant that I needed a Monday night baby-sitter.

That wasn't too difficult. I had a friend who lived one street over, and if she couldn't watch them, my mom was happy to help out.

The only trouble was, when it came time to pick the kids up, they were asleep.

I could wake up the older two, somewhat, and sort of herd them into the house quickly. Youngest Son was another story. This kid slept like a log. Anywhere.

On one particularly cold winter's night, I had gotten the groggy Oldest Son and Daughter into the house. When I went back for Youngest Son, he wasn't there.

As I looked down the dark street, I saw the back of him, running. Running down the center of the road in the dark. In blue feety pajamas with the feet cut off.

Instantly I took off after him. When I caught him he was sound asleep. Sound asleep and still running.

I picked him up, carried him home and dropped him into bed. He NEVER woke up. I continued herding the other two off to bed, and then callapsed.

I'm not sure if I've recovered yet.

Nope. I've thought deeply about it, and I haven't.

I was Her.