Hide 'n' Go Seek and Panic Attacks

If I didn't realize it before, I do now.  Colin is my dare devil.  My adventure seeker.  My brave-to-a-fault child who isn't going to look before he leaps.  People keep telling me that's because he's a boy and all boys are like that.  Not sure I completely buy into that gender stereotype but neither of his sisters is like this so maybe those people are on to something.  He's always been a climber and a jumper.  One that naturally gravitates towards playing with knives and scissors (but thankfully I've learned to keep those things way out of his reach).  He was the first to climb the stairs and also the first to fall down them.  I imagine he'd be all for skydiving if he even knew what that was.  This boy is fearless....completely the OPPOSITE of his mama!  I don't like adventure--well the kind that could be life threatening, that is.  I hate roller coasters.  Not a huge fan of flying.  Boats make me nervous.  And for as long as I can remember, I have been the type to look before I leap.  And I mean a SERIOUS looker.  Oftentimes I look for so long and so hard that I forget why I'm even looking in the first place!  So for me, having a child like Colin is a challenge to say the least--mostly because I don't get those adventurous-types.

As I type this, I'm reminded of a quote from the Steve Martin remake of the 1950 classic film Father of the Bride (which incidentally is NOT as good as the original Spencer Tracy version.  But I digress).  This pretty much sums me up as a parent, too:

"I've always been a concerned parent.  I'm big on car seats, seat belts, bed times, curfews, calling when you get somewhere, never running with a sharp object."

That's totally me, y'all.  Maybe to a fault.  Given this personality flaw...er...trait, I'm always watching over my kids like a hawk.  But today I guess I wasn't watching close enough.  After church, a big group of us (us being other parents with young kids) stands around in the church's gym to chit chat and let the kids play.  Today was no different except that today in the few seconds we weren't watching, Colin disappeared.  I wasn't concerned as I began the search for him because I figured he had just ducked into one of the gym's classrooms.  But my initial search came up empty.  I got Vincent involved.  I ran upstairs while he searched downstairs.  No Colin.  Other parents began to see the concern on my face and they joined in the search.  I checked parking lots.  Nothing.  Panic didn't really set in until I saw the look of concern on Vincent's face.  He's the calm one in this relationship--the one that helps keep my neuroses in check.  When Vincent's scared, I know it's time to hit the panic button.  And hit it I did.  I began to imagine all the awful things that could have happened to my boy.  I don't even want to go there again by writing them down.  But I'm sure any other parent reading this knows the places my brain was going.  Not fun.  Finally I as I was headed to the playground thinking maybe he went there for some fun, I hear someone say "tell mom we found him".  RELIEF!!  I walk out the doors of the gym to see one of the nursery workers walking him back.  He was happy as a clam.  He had walked all the way from our church's gym back to the building where the nursery is.  That's a long way--like a mile in a two year old's world.  But he got it in his mind that he wanted to go back there and he did.  And took about 5 years off my life in the process.  It took me a while to come down off that awful, fear-generated adrenaline rush.  I had a headache and a stomach ache.

I can't help feeling like I had a "failed mom" moment today.  I keep playing the 'what if' game.  All I can say is thank God that He was watching over Colin.  Thank you, God, that while I was having a stupid, very human moment, You were keeping my boy safe.  Sometimes I still wonder why You made me the mother of anyone--especially after days like today.  But I know You gave me these little blessings for a reason.  I believe You thought that I'd be just the right the mother for these three.  Perhaps Colin and I can learn something from one another.  Maybe Colin can teach his mom a thing or two about being a little more adventurous.  And I think I will teach him how to dial 911!