I
failed as a parent. I
miserably failed and I have repented over and over to God. I have cried, I have hated myself, I have gone over the scene in my head ten million times so as to punish myself. And today I am forgiving myself. I am praising God for his protection and mercy and grace, and I am letting it go.
Bode escaped
Friday morning. He got himself up and about and walked right out the door, perhaps never to return if not for divine intervention. I bathed both of my babies, dressed them, set Bode down in the playroom, and ushered Mia in to the bathroom to begin the
blow drying "process" that is her sort-of curly but mostly just
frizzy hair. As I
was blowing and straightening and yanking and combing I hear a woman yelling "Hello" and I hear the
Bodester screaming his head off. I look up to find this strange woman in my bedroom holding my youngest child.
She found him down the street, she said.
Humiliation and shock and
relief and grief and fear and more relief and udder shame is all I could feel.
In a blink of an eye my kid was gone and I never even missed him.
So, I am now a changed woman. I have been humbled. I am so thankful that God sent that lady home early on her lunch hour because it was going to take me at least another 5 minutes to finish that crazy hair of hers and then who knows....
I hugged him a little tighter, held him a little longer, and stared in amazement at his precious face all weekend long.
And then this thought occured to me: What if I had been naked when that complete stranger walked into my bedroom? Once again, I thanked God.
Look at all those desks. Now imagine 4-year-olds sitting perfectly quiet and still in every single one of them. Now stop laughing and snorting diet coke through your nose 'cause I ain't kidding. I don't know what kind of coma inducing fumes they are pumping through those air vents. Whatever it is, it works like magic and I want some.
You know you're an MRCC kid when you have to peal stickers off the backs of all your church clothes. Or in our case, when you have to pick tiny pieces of stickers out of your washing machine every week.
Tell me she isn't adorable. 
1. He would have had on a diaper made especially for swimming and thus avoided the "poop on Daddy incident." Although I kind of enjoyed the incident myself.
2. We would have had custom earplugs made for his tube-holding little ears. Sorry about that one, Dude (That's Dr. 
3. And there would have been at least 43 adults in the water with him at all times, 30 of which would have been licenced life guards that I would have personally hired to watch his every move, because I'm psycho like that, and the other 13 would have been a full-staffed movie crew to catch the entire first swim experience in high-def.
But alas, he pooped in his shorts, got water in his ears, only had 15 or so adults watching him, and the video camera was nowhere in sight. And he was in heaven.
"Dude, you scream you're dead."
"Now put the blanket over him and look innocent."
"Done."
Mia, sometimes I wish you had one of those perfect mothers who has it all together all the time. I tried being her once and frankly, she was no fun at all. She would never let you go to Target in your Ariel costume and tap shoes or put glue all over your hands and then peal it off. I tell you what, I won't expect you to be perfect if you won't expect me to. Deal? Deal.
