Hold Them Close. Teach Them Well.
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On Sunday, we drove to New Jersey for Toddler’s good friend’s fourth birthday party. We were worried about the marathon mayhem, but the ride was quick and smooth. And the party was wonderful. My girls, my rough and tumble dinosaur-adoring girls, dressed up as princesses and sipped tea (a.k.a. pink lemonade) from tiny porcelain cups. They wore tiaras and jeweled tattoos and made magic wands. They had a blast.
After, we drove to my friend’s gorgeous new home in a town nearby. There were six of us families there and oodles of kids running about. We parents did our best to chat, to catch up, as our wee ones zipped through and around our legs. It was a beautiful and boisterous chaos. And then we drove home.
Another smooth trip. It was dark when we pulled up in front of our home. Husband parked the car and hopped out. He unstrapped Baby from her seat and placed her on the sidewalk next to him and started unloading our things. Toddler and I had to wait a bit because of passing traffic on our side street. I looked out my window, waiting for a safe moment to open the door, and I saw her there. Standing in the street.
Baby.
She stood right by my side of the car. She was so little and she couldn’t see me. I couldn’t open the door because it would knock her over, and further into the street. And so. I screamed. She’s in the street! And Husband: Where? It was dark and, at first, he couldn’t see her. But then I saw him. Running around the front of the car. He scooped her up. A car had seen her and stopped.
Moments, mere moments, later we were all on the street. Husband and I bent down next to her, our little girl, and talked to her. We were firm. Very. She cried. She was so sad, so sorry. But this wasn’t a time to coddle her. This wasn’t something to let go. She wept, fat tears falling, and we comforted her, yes. But we made it clear. Over and over. She could never do that again. Never. Even Toddler took a turn, telling her little sister that she cannot go in the street with cars. And then Toddler hugged Baby. And Baby cried into her big sister’s silver parka.
Baby is okay. She learned, I hope, an important lesson. One I presumed she already knew. She is bold, and fast, and so so young. She didn’t know. I pray she does now.
And we are okay, too. We learned, I know, an important lesson. One I presumed we already knew. We are human, and not perfect, and it’s our job to protect her. We do know this. And certainly now.
To be honest, I wondered, and still wonder somewhat, whether I should write this post. Surely, someone out there will read this and think we are not good parents for letting this scenario unfold. Surely, someone out there will read this and think I am being melodramatic in my characterization of this occurrence. What matters though? What I think. And I think it’s important — for some reason I do not yet understand fully — that we see and acknowledge our most intense moments – of fear, of love, of longing, of life.
Like it or not, it is these moments that make us.
Hold them close. Teach them well.
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Have you experienced moments when your kids or other loved ones were in danger and you were momentarily helpless? Please tell me I am not alone. Do you think it is important to acknowledge these moments of fear and of love? Do you think it is important that we, from time to time, admit our failures, our flaws, in parenting and all else?
Everyone struggles and...
Oh Aidan! I so know where you are coming from. My youngest – years ago as he is now sporting a driver’s permit so the fears are new and different – opened the door one day and walked out of the house and around the corner. We lived on the corner at the time but still. A neighbor saw him and brought him home but I was petrified. I didn’t like the doors being locked as the older kids were always outside playing but it got to the point, with my little explorer, that I had to lock the older kids outside if I could not go out with the youngest.
I hate those close calls, they seem to stick in your head forever. Whether it’s losing a child in a store full of people or stepping off the sidewalk too early, it’s so scary as a parent. You did nothing wrong.
I am sure you are a great parent! You didn’t do anything wrong! Kids are small and fast! Baby is ok, and you and your husband taught her a lesson that I am sure she will not forget!
Oh, Aidan! You are most definitely NOT alone. When I turned my back on my then 9 month old (who had just mastered the art of crawling) for a few seconds, the sickening “boom” at the bottom of three steps is a sound that I think will haunt me forever. Scooping her up from the bottom of the stairs? Watching her NOT breathe after the initial cry? Watching over my dad as he tried to get her to start screaming (and breathing) again? All while I sat there and tried not to vomit. I was frozen. A few minutes later, when she was fine and helping us sing Itsy Bitsy Spider, I didnt want to tell anyone about my failure (not even my husband, who I didnt call until after 911 had come and gone). In the end, a few days later, I did tell my friends — especially my friends with young kids. I felt like it was a wake up call for me that could be a wake up call for my friends — that no matter where you are, a house MUST be baby-proofed and that it takes only 2 seconds for something terrible to happen.
That’s your lesson (and all of ours), too. Your readers will now hold their babies’ hands a bit tighter when popping in and out of cabs, in parking lots, on darkened streets.
Thank you for the reminder. We always need them. xoxo
That is such an important post…glad you wrote it and so glad that Baby is okay!
This one brought tears to my eyes and I felt that I had to comment. My 3-year-old and I were walking on the sidewalk one day a few months ago when a truck started backing out of a spot and almost hit my son. It was frightening. Thankfully he was okay, but it reminded me that anything can happen at any time, no matter our best intentions. This happens to everyone, and I’m glad that Baby is okay.
Glad baby is ok.
It happens sometimes. My little one fell down the stairs (about 7 stairs) and I was petrified wondering how that could happen. I turned my head for a millisecond. Everything turned out ok.
I lost my 4-year-old in a department store. The store went on lock down and everything. Turns out, he lost sight of us and thought we left the store so he walked all the way out to the parking garage by himself!!! A security guard saw him and figured out where to bring him. There are so many “what-if’s” in that story; I cannot bring myself to think of them any more. And, these things, which happen more times then you’d like to admit, really make you truly understand what can happen in a moment could change your life forever.
Oh, I am so glad you wrote this post and so VERY thankful that Baby is OK. You did the right thing. And yes, we’ve all been there – you are definitely not alone!
I have been a parent for 19 years and can’t even tell you how many mistakes, terrible ones too, that I have made as a parent (I have a “in the street” and “falling down the stairs” story too, along with too many others).
I believe it is VERY important to admit them, and even share them, so that we can learn from them. If others learn from them too, that is a bonus and who knows whose life it may save.
Thank you so very much for sharing your story with us. Big hugs for you all.
A couple of summers ago I thought my son (8 at the time) was at a neighborhood friend’s house. He and his buddy were back and forth between houses all day and I didn’t give it a second thought when he walked out saying, “I’m going over to L’s house.” My husband was working from home and I went out to get my hair cut and was gone for about 45 minutes. When I got home L’s mom called to see if L could come over for a bit while she ran an errand. I said, “Sure, just send the boys over whenever you’re ready.” She sounded a little confused and said, “Well we just got back, AJ’s not over here.”
It hit me as I dialed 911 that not only did I not know where my son was, I didn’t even know how long he’d been ‘unaccounted for.’
Within 2 minutes we had called all the neighborhood friends (thinking that if L wasn’t home, he might have gone to another friend’s house.) No luck. But everyone was on the case. He was found by a (frantic) friend at the park, a block from home. Completely safe.
One of the lessons of that for me was how lucky we are to live in a place where he felt (and quite frankly IS so safe.)
We had a great conversation about how important it is to let someone know where you are.
We live in a wonderfully safe community where (at almost 11) he and his friends have a lot of freedom. And he’s very good about checking in when they move between houses and such.
This was most definitely the scariest moment (to date) for me as a parent…
i did not need coffee this morning because i read this story and it woke my ass up. how terrifying!
i’m so thankful she is ok… so thankful all of you are ok…
ohmygosh.
So scary! I’m glad she is okay and that you were firm with her about safety. My older son disappeared in FAO Schwarz when he was 2 1/2. We found him a couple minutes later, but those were the worst few minutes of my entire life! He was crying because we got mad at him, but I’d rather he hate me for a few minutes than be gone for good. My younger son got in big trouble for running around my car in a parking lot so that I couldn’t see him for a moment. That was also heart attack worthy. It’s hard to teach a lesson without a springboard, but we don’t necessarily want that springboard either.
What a terrifying experience for all of you. I’m glad that Baby is okay and that you have decided to help process the experience by sharing it here.
My own “what if?” moment happened when my 3 year old had just turned one: when my back was turned hanging clothes in his closet, he opened the drawer of his dresser, climbed in, and pulled the dresser down on top of himself. Thank goodness he was unhurt. But I will never forget the noise of the dresser falling or the feeling of my heart stopping until I heard his cry.
You, my dear, are certainly not alone. Just by writing the words and sharing them here, you have seen how much company you have. Although I can’t think of a great example to share here, I HAVE MADE MANY ERRORS. Many. And I remind myself, with each step, stumble, misstep and correction, that I am doing my best. As are you.
Hugs to you and Baby. xo
Oh goodness! I had to read that twice just to be sure that I read it right. And my heart lept into my throat. With boys I know this feeling so well. It’s a daily occurence, they are wild and boisterous and over the top. I used to worry too, about what other thought, but then I realized I was truly doing the best I could and stuff just happens.
Hugs to you, so so glad it all was fine. And I hope a lesson WAS learned, though I bet there will be more just like it