Neurotic Mama, Cured?

I am proud of myself, yes I am!

I am a self-professed, overly neurotic Mama.

I have been this way since before my children actually entered this world.

“Excuse me, but there are five other women with my name in the immediate area, how will you know it is really me trying to leave the hospital with my baby and not one of them.”

I swear the Ranger did a slow hand slap to the forehead every time I opened my mouth during that last month of pregnancy.

I did not leave my child with ANYONE other than the Ranger until she was over a year old, and then only for a few short hours at a time.

My problem became obvious to family when I used a Sharpie to write Big’s name, hometown and G-Ma’s phone number across the bum of her Onesie the first time we flew together. She was 9 months old.

Today, my kids actually have heart shaped dog tags with their names, home town, Mama’s name and phone number. They have these tags so when we travel or they are on a school trip they have a way of finding me if they get lost. Big no longer wears hers around her neck, we loop it around a belt loop and it goes in her pocket. Baby requests her necklace because it is BEAUTIFUL!

I think one of my biggest fears in parenthood is my child being missing.

Some people think I should just get over it. I think they should leave me alone. I’m getting there…baby steps, but I’m getting there!

Back to why I’m proud of myself.

So, Baby joined the after school fitness program at her elementary school. She likes being fit! There is no late bus for elementary school, and it was explained that I would need to pick her up from school. No problem-O!

She’s 6, so I went over and over with her that she was not taking the bus to AfterCare after school. She was to go to the gymnasium for fitness and then I would pick her up. Yesterday was the first day.

I went to pick her up. I sat in the pick-up line. I got to the front of the line and asked for my child.

She wasn’t standing in line. I had assumed she was in the gym still. I was wrong.

She wasn’t there. Where was my Baby! My Baby was missing! The teacher had no clue where she was. She was not in the gym. She had not been to the gym. She didn’t come home on the bus, I was at home when the bus came.


I didn’t scream at the teacher. I didn’t burst into tears and demand they call the police. My Baby was missing! She had to be scared. She had to be confused. She had to be at AfterCare.

So, I tried calling AfterCare Director who is also our neighbor, no answer.


I jumped in my Suki and off I went across town to AfterCare where I walk in and there she sat in her bright purple pants and bright red shirt doing homework with a volunteer.

“Baby, where are you supposed to be?”


She looked confused all right. She was right where she goes every day after school. She was doing what she does every day when she gets to AfterCare.

“I went to the gym to get you and you weren’t there. Why weren’t you there?”

The tears start at this point (hers not mine). Now she’s upset, she didn’t get to be fit and instead of comforting myself over my mini heart attack I end up comforting the cause of that attack who missed her fun time.

I think I have turned a page. I didn’t COMPLETELY freak that she wasn’t where she should have been. I very calmly (with lots of cleansing breaths) figured where she would be and went to that location to double check.

Now, this doesn’t mean that I’m going to throw out their name tags, but I did let Big play outside today by herself without standing in the window to supervise.

Baby steps…



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