Lost My Little Girl

I Need a Drink

Ok. So before we panic, I found her. This should be painfully obvious, because had I not, you would be seeing this particular fat chick I know (me, dummy) on the evening news right about now, ripping out my hair and pulling a vocal cord left and right. My 5 year old son, who, from this point on, and due to his secret government job, will be known as "Freddy", has soccer practice every Friday around 6. I say "around" simply because parents of 5 year olds are incapable of being on time, in a designated place, at the same time. Freddy plays for a church team, at a church we do not attend. In this particular league, all kids get game time, and learn the importance of teamwork. They also give them a little "God-lesson" which I'm hoping will counteract all the damage my liberal ass does during the week. At the practice field, there is a slide/play area for the children who regularly attend this church, and those (like mine) whose parents are attempting to squash their own guilt by involving their babies in church-centered activities. Even better, this "slide" is shaped like Noah's Ark. I don't know if this is intentional. I had assumed, since I am so good at it, that it was on purpose. I mean, it IS a church. Even better than that, on top of said play area, are two swingy bars that seem to be hanging from what looks like a cross. I am not being blasphemous. I do fear God, as I was raised Pentecostal, South Carolina-style, meaning I don't really have a choice in the matter. Before you all freak, I haven't been to a camp meeting on purpose in close to 15 years. So, to look up during soccer practice, and see my baby swinging from the cross had already put me in a state of something close to panic. I was watching Freddy practice and "Dora" (her nom de jour), play on the boat of the Lord at the same time. This is not an easy task, except that I am gifted with what my husband refers to as "lizard eyes", enabling me to see things that normal people cannot. When Freddy takes one to the head, I busy myself with coddling for a moment, looking away from the ark. Damn it. It was the end of practice, which calls for a round of parents vs. children, or what I like to call, "fat, lazy moms and dads making themselves feel better by cheating in a game of soccer against 5-year-olds." Great fun. I ask Freddy to fetch Dora from the ark, so that she could piggyback during this romp. He promptly returns and informs me that she is no where to be found. Being an unaccomplished hide-n-seek player, who promptly gives out her whereabouts if you ask, I knew she wasn't doing this on purpose. Suddenly, in my demented, twisted, watch too much "The First 48" brain, I envisioned all of the things that had just happened to her in the last 30 seconds while I wasn't looking. I charge, drill-sergeant style, up to the ark, screaming "Dora!" "Dora!" Freddy is trailing behind me. Every male I see is one step away from pulling out his privates and molesting children in front of all of North Carolina (this is no laughing matter, I'm just trying to explain the panic that has turned these soccer dads, in my mind, into the next dude with a "Sick Sex Offender" sign in his front yard). I begin to walk toward the bathrooms, when I hear, "Mommy! Mommy! I went pee pee! I pee peed in the paaahhhhtttyyy!!!" Yeah for Dora!" After puking in my mouth, I grabbed Dora, squeezed her until she pulled my nose to make me stop, and told her three things: 1. NEVER, NEVER, NEVER go anywhere without mommy knowing where you are. 2. Mommy isn't angry with her, just scared because I would shrivel and die without her in my face on a minute by minute basis. 3. Way to go, girl! You pee peed in the paaahhhhhtttty!!!!