I May Be A Lunatic Mom

Someone tell me I’m not the only neurotic mom in the world.

Please.

Why would I say such a thing?

I dropped my youngest daughter off at the gym right after dinner this evening.  While she worked out, I ran a few Christmas shopping errands.  Because I was unsure about how long my errand would take, I told Ashton to call me when she was ready to be picked up and if I couldn’t get her, her brother would. Seems simple enough, right?

I hurried through my errands and finished in just over an hour.  Figuring she’d be nearly done, I texted Ashton, “I’m on my way to pick you up. Love, Mom”.  Though I didn’t get a reply back, I figured she’d received the text and would be waiting when I arrived.  Wrong. Not only was she not waiting, she wasn’t anywhere to be found.  So I texted her again, “I am here.  Where are you?”

No reply.

I hoped out of my car and walked into the gym to get her, but didn’t see Ashton anywhere.  Odd. So I called her cell phone and left a message, then texted her BFF, who was also at the gym, “Are you with Ashton?”

No reply from BFF either.

Hmmm.

Anyone who has teenagers knows that while they may not answer a call or listen to a voice message, they almost never miss a text.

I called her big brother wondering if maybe he’d heard from Ashton. Nope. So, I walked through the gym a second time, making sure to check the sauna, bathrooms and spa areas. I eyed every single person in that gym, hoping one of them would be her in an outfit I had forgotten she’d worn. No doubt a few patrons wondered if I was some sort of weirdo stalker. I had the gym personnel page her—twice. But youngest daughter wasn’t in sight. Now my nerves began to get a little frayed, accelerated by the sight of two flashing police cars parked just down the street from our gym.

Where was that cotton pickin’ child?

I texted her third time and called a second, leaving a ridiculously long and frantic message, saying something like, “Ashton Nicole Jones, I have been walking through this gym for 30 minutes and you are nowhere in sight.  If you don’t call me in the next 3 minutes I’m calling 911, SO CALL YOUR MOM!!!!”

Had it really been just a half an hour ago that I leisurely steered my car into the gym parking lot, singing Christmas carols and thanking God for all my many blessings?  I had gone from worshipper to worrier in 30 minutes flat.

Kids will do that to you.

If you let them.

Or you are a bit of a lunatic worrier. Like me.

Finally, I made one final sweep through the gym before pulling the trigger on the whole 911 thing. As I rounded the locker room corner, there she was, laughing and chatting with her BFF and former youth group leader. Turns out, she’d been in the gym the whole time, but her cell phone had been in her locker. I didn’t know whether to hug her or kill her. Honestly, I wanted to do both.  I’m convinced that child put five new gray hairs on my head tonight.

Wait.  Let me rethink that. I put five new gray hairs on my head tonight.  Ashton didn’t do anything wrong, but I let my mind, heart and soul spin out of control.

Now we’re home safe and sound.  I type words on a keyboard while she studies Spanish.  My heart is no longer beating wildly.  We’ve laughed over the debacle.

But still, really, someone please tell me I’m not the only lunatic mom.  🙂

P.S. Be sure to read my next blog post.  It’s what I planned on writing today, and what, you will soon see, I need to remember every bit as much as the next gal.