I could not take a picture of Sam rollerblading yesterday, that captured him face on, in the frame. Talk about an omen. His brother on the other hand, was easy to snag in his roll as the ever cautious “CAAAAAAAAAAR” caller.
This might also relate to yesterday’s dramatic event #235.4: Runaway Sam. Events leading up to the defiant departure are as follows:
1.) Our leaving a cafe without me buying either child a drink, or a snack because my whine-o-meter popped on the spot. No whining when special treats are involved. You pick a muffin. You pick a drink. You wait in line. The moment you whine about not getting a brightly wrapped chocolate egg, or a whoopie pie and don’t notice my evil eye, or my calm; “BUTTON IT” cautionary reminder: I pop.
2.) My refusal to run outside in the SNOW to buy an ice cream from the ice cream truck. YES you read that correctly. One lone lunatic ice cream truck driver was going up and down out street chasing the blue sky and warm temperature from the day before! My rule? No ice cream trucks until the temperature is over 70 outside, or we have turned the heat off inside for at least three consecutive days.
He packed his bag: change of clothes, tooth brush, and tooth paste, blankie, Bear-Bear, and two books. I have trained the kid well, even if the running away because I am so horrid is not exactly mother of the year material. Did I mention the sign he put on the window last week? “New Mom for Seal”. Thank goodness no marine biologists came knocking.
He walked into the foyer. Marcel offering these kind words; “Sam, if you have to go you can. But I’d like you to come back very soon.” He opened the front door. At this point, I am still writing on my computer, for the agreed on twenty minute-independent time (more on that soon). I am increasingly amused and concerned. What do I do if he leaves? Do I ignore him? Will that really help? Do I give him a chance to explore this independence and then rescue?
Marcel kept watch from the window. “Mommy is Sammy every coming back? He has been gone a long time.” It had been about fifteen seconds at this point.
That was all I could take.
In the driveway with snow falling all over the kneeling, aching, crying Sam, and his beloved Bear-Bear, next to the hot pink camo suitcase I offered the following words of comfort; “Would you like a blanket?” No! No! No! I did not. Instead, I scooped him up, and said; “I’m so happy that I found you. I would be so sad if you left Sam.” His sob quieted, and he easily dissolved into my arms. Crisis averted. Marcel calling out; “Sam if you want to go you can. But I’d prefer you stayed home next time.”
Within fifteen minutes the snow stopped falling, the sun was out, and the blasted ice cream truck was nowhere to be seen. One and Two were reunited in fun with me racing behind trying in vain to capture it all…
Ooohhh. There is a runaway in every family (aka drama queen). My middle one is the one that threatens to run away. I’m glad it all ended well! Stressful Sat for the mama!
Oh it was so dramatic. And yes, I was that one who ran away many times too. Only I haven’t told him that yet… Once I ran away into the street drain in front of our house. The kind that was long, and you climb down into if you were little. I was there for about 15 minutes…
I ran away when I was four. I even packed a suitcase. My sister joined me and we sat outside, by the mailbox, for over six hours. I came in when it got dark (read: scary), but my sister stayed there until after 9 o’clock. She was always much more daring than me.
OK so I find all of this reassuring. Maybe I should do a little poll….#of parents who ran away prior to age 8? Your sister was truly daring. I would have been so hungry! (BTW-your Sunday linkage was and always is so rich. I added at lease two of my blogs to my links because of your links. )
I’m very glad that no one happened by with a seal. I needed that levity, we are in our 9th month of waiting to be matched, just got our fingerprints done again. My husband told me many times of his running away when he was five. He packed a blanket, a truck and a tv guide…put on his straw hat and ran away. Clear across the street to his “girlfriend’s” house. He was served cookies and milk and watched sesame street then his mom came and got him. It’s the packing of the tv guide that got me. Thank you for opening a window into open adoption. Glad Sam is staying home and Marcel’s comments were priceless.
I never tried to run away when i was little but i did threaten to call 911 on my mom and tell them she was beating me. (she wasn’t) I read this thinking running away is horrible, but I think that might be even worse now that I think about it. . .
how do you deal with things like this?
With patience and prayers that I am not messing it up even more than I think I am?