14: Running Away

Today, I jumped in the mom van and ran away from my mom life.

It all began just after 3 p.m. My 10-year-old had begged me to join the Boy Scouts and I reluctantly took him along with my 7-year-old and 2-year-old. (I didn't reluctantly take the older ones; I reluctantly took the 2-year-old.)

But, he begged. "I wanna go! Momma! I wanna go! Momma. Please! I wanna go!" As soon as I gave him the nod, he was dressing himself. The meeting was at our favorite local park, Kanapaha Park, which I knew would be scorching hot, so my hubby opted to stay home with the baby.

As soon as we arrived, I knew I had made the number one mom mistake. I had assumed. (Why?! Why?! Did I assume ... haven't I already learned that lesson?) I had assumed that -- considering the heat -- there would be some kind of cold drinks provided.

I know better than to assume, so I was kicking myself when we walked up to a small crowd sitting at a picnic table sans the refreshments. I knew I should have had water for all my kiddies, but I was in such a rush to get them out the door.

My 2-year-old (we'll call him E) spotted a cooler at the next table over ... an ice-filled cooler and about 20 guys from a University of Florida fraternity. Real nice, son. But, that's where he wanted to be the entire. time. They had soccer balls, food and drinks; what did he need with the Boys Scouts table?

The first full hour was a fight. I kept chasing him over there; and dragging him back to our little table. At one point, he was screaming all the way back "I wannna play, momma! I waaannnaaa plaaay!"

"Fine. But, you can't play with them!" I sternly said.

My final solution -- and as I was on the verge of tears -- was the toddler swing. He loved it so much that he absolutely refused to get out as the meeting ended. "Time to go, E!"

"No, momma, no! I don't wanna go!"

And then he went limp. So, there I was, trying to pry him out of that swing (you know, the kind pictured below.) My oldest son was holding the swing, my daughter was pulling his legs out and I was pulling as hard as I possibly could. The first three times, we all failed. And, finally, I pulled with all my might when he practically flew out of the swing.

I was beet-red, sweat -- and tears -- dripping from my face. Thank God for sunglasses! I grabbed his fat, little hand and pulled him, as he fought the entire way. I was sure that everyone was watching me just fall apart.

"This has been the worst two hours of my life!" I shouted as we got in the van. The two older kids remained quiet. I pulled up to the driveway. "Everyone out!" I was hysterical. I dropped them off with hubby, and peeled out of the driveway.

I was determined to run away ... all the way to the Publix parking lot. I sat in my air conditioned van and just sobbed. I called a friend in Ohio, who has six kids. "She can help me," I thought. But this is all I got when I called: "Not taking incoming calls. Call at a later time."

No! This has to be a mistake. Her phone never does that. I called like 10 times in a row, and finally, I gave up. I wanted to go ... I don't know ... grab a drink or something. (Yeah, I always say it, but never do it.) I sobbed and sobbed some more, until finally, I sat there quietly.

There was no more fight in me. I was done. I knew my mommy instincts kicked in the moment I thought "I wonder what kind of sales they have today." And, I was off. 30 minutes later, I was pulling into our driveway with a trunk full of groceries.

I even bought ice cream -- my way of making everything better, I guess. I felt bad for yelling in the van. As soon as I walked in the door, my 2-year-old screamed. "MOMMY! YAY! MOMMY HOME!"

My 2-year-old is the one who can drive me to run away (okay, I guess we can't really call that running away.) But, he's also the one who makes me want to run to him when I walk in the door. Oh, that boy. What am I going to do with him? I'm sure there will be many more tears. But, I'm also sure there will be more laughs than tears.

And that -- no, he -- will always bring me home.