You may ask yourself how can a mom lose a nine year old at a birthday dinner at the church? A party that is taking place in a fairly small room? Well, I did and now it’s even funny to nine year old daughter, but let’s face it: I traumatized my child.
The evening started off rushed. Husband comes home and we make a mad dash to reach the dinner on time. We arrive just as the last person is making herself a plate. At this moment, I realize we will eat my pasta dish for supper the following night. Oh well, my chin is up. I’m looking forward to eating a meal that someone else has prepared. Ah, there is a catch. We are the last people to go through the food line and yes, most of the good dishes have gone the way of other dinner plates. But there was that yummy pasta dish that was brought by the family who was late. Once again I am determined to make the best of the situation. At heart I’m a idealist and search for the best case scenarios. I rarely admit defeat. We sit down and have a lovely dinner with my brother and mother in-law. I didn’t allow myself to wonder why they wouldn’t have called dibs on some of the better dishes in our honor. I would have done this for them. No, I wouldn’t let my mind entertain this idea at all. I ate my canned biscuits–all the homemade ones were gone–and pasta. Oh yeah, I did score a large salmon patty–that’s southern for salmon croquettes, breaded in cornmeal and deep fried. It was a treat. Two bites into the our dinner, the preacher’s wife announced that they would sing happy birthday to the preacher and cut the cake. Husband began to shove food in his mouth so as not to miss a piece of the birthday cake. Ah, but I knew we had no fears. Brother in-law had purchased the cake.
Now, what you have to realize about brother in-law is when he buys the cake, the whole state of Georgia can attend. Every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter my table is blessed with cakes of all sorts. At Halloween we received three dozen assorted cupcakes, a mummy cake–this is a cake that looks like a a mummy’s face–and a ghost cake.
At the church dinner, there was two huge sheet cakes, one chocolate and one strawberry. My eye was on the strawberry. After dinner I decided to socialize with a few friends. Socializing for a writer is rare. I spend most of my time here creating important blog posts for my followers. No seriously, I can spend days without speaking more than ten words to an actual adult. I’m not talking about Husband. So I go to another table and begin a wonderful conversation with a friend from high school. We both like to read and love similar books.
In minutes I realized I haven’t seen nine year old daughter. Husband walks by and I grab his arm. “Where’s our child?”
He shrugs. “She’s not with you?”
“Maybe you should find her.” There are several reasons I gave him this task, but the main one is: it was his turn.
I continued my talk and minutes went by with me glancing around the room to see if my daughter had appeared. It was around this time began to hear a loud bump. BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP! No one else seemed to notice, so I decided it was a bad frig or a furnace turning on. The sound continued. Husband walked by.
“Did you find her?”
“No, did you?”
My heart began to beat like that of a mother who has not been at her post as she should. The annoying noise continued.
“Where is she?” I tried not to scream at him.
“I’ll look outside.”
I refrained from pointing out he should have done this the first time. The noise grew louder. No one seemed to notice. I felt like I was in a bad horror movie. The preacher’s wife looked up and went to a closet, opened it, and looked inside. She shrugged to herself and went back to her seat. The noise began again. I walked back to the hall where the closet was located. There was the ladies bathroom. I whispered to the door. “Are you in there.”
“Gosh Mom, it took you long enough! I’ve been in here forever. The lock is broken. I can’t get out! Where were you? Couldn’t you hear me beating on the wall?”
Friends, take this as a lesson. Don’t become so accustom to blocking out loud noises that you don’t hear a cry for help! Oh well, Daughter is fine, even if she’s not so sure about her mother’s rescue capabilities. But I’d be willing to bet this will be one of those stories she tells her own kids. And as for me, I need a vacation. Anyone out there know where I can get a cheap writing retreat. Free would be great.