Monday Fun-day

My daughters refer to Monday as “Monday Fun-day.”  It began when they started attending a neighborhood pre-school three mornings each week.  Monday is our "off day" when mornings begin on the lazy side.  We plan an outing together over breakfast: a trip to the zoo, the local mall, or a nearby park … I move their ideas along to activities that I am certain will tire their little bodies out for an afternoon nap -- I'm no dummy!  It thrills the girls to pack their bags with snacks, their favorite stuffed toys, and a book or two.  Sometimes it's just the three of us; other times we invite friends.  

I am always a little leery of which way the day will go as kids will be kids and I do have my "job" tagging along.  I'm kind of proud of my ability to multi-task.  One minute I can be in the middle of the zoo, gawking at an orangutan and the hauling phone will ring.  I step aside politely to answer and as I answer the query on the other end of the line I often spy the "expert" Mom off to side glancing first to me and then sadly to my two orphaned children.  I am that Mom on the phone while her children are seemingly left on their own to come to their own conclusions about why the monkeys pick up their own poop and throw it at each other.  I am that Mom who seems to be waving her children off while enjoying a mindless chat with a girlfriend.  The truth is, I am probably giving directions to a lost driver, trying to play damage control with the client we are late to see or negotiating with a frugal customer.  Most often, I listen patiently as some kindly old lady explains her gardening project and her desire to have a yard or two of compost delivered.  Have you ever noticed how older people just want to visit?...  Don’t get me wrong; I understand this is my “job,” and from my vantage point I believe I do it well -- my girls and my peers wouldn't always agree.  

One Monday Fun-day we met a friend of mine and her three children at a nearby mall.  The mall has a child's play area near the local coffee shop with benches for Moms and others to rest.  Nearby is a carousel that we save for the final treat of the afternoon - the grand finale of the day.  Our children know the routine.  They romped off as we sipped our lattes and caught up on the recent gossip surrounding our lives.  We were relaxed, caught in the moment and laughing at our budding acrobats playing together so nicely.  The business phone rang and I sprung into Hauler's Wife mode.  I turned and walked to a quieter area..my friend, understanding, waved me on--my good friends do that, they understand.  I continued the conversation with my attention still on my little angles. Suddenly my eyes caught the wide-eyed panic of my friend -- she shrieked that her two-year old was missing! 

Without a word my friend and I swooped up the remaining children and began scanning in opposite directions, half walking-half running.  Up and down store fronts, quickly in and out of doorways, eyes peeled for any sign of that little boy.  Horror flooded my mind.  Stop!  Settle down!  Breathe!  We continued our search in desperation, smoothly moving through the waves of people.  Tightly holding on to my daughters' hands, I stretched my neck to look over the crowd.  Where are you little one?  Tears welled in my eyes. I brushed them aside and continued feeling as if I would implode.  The panic I experienced was unlike any other … and he wasn’t even my child -- how must my friend feel? My face flushed with anxiety and fear. I couldn't stop the tears from running down my face.

After what seemed an eternity, we stumbled upon the little boy -- delighted to be in the arms of the carousel conductor and waiting his turn for a carousel ride!  Mom and son reunited, she on her knees in front of him, tearfully hugging and caressing his soft hair.  This time I took her children and waved her off, understanding -- good friends do that, you know.  After a few quiet moments, she joined us.  We were in line waiting our turn for the carousel.  I spoke gently to my girls.  They, too, had become frightened with all the commotion.  All together again, we decided to ride the swan that would fit us all!  I tucked my phone into my pocket and turned my full attention to our happy group.  Hauling calls would have to be answered later.  The driver may have to stop and ask for directions, gardening projects would have to wait ...  I sat back against the swan's wings and looked sideways at my friend who had both her arms around her children and one on her lap.  Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted down.  Knowing her as I do I am certain she was thanking God for her fortune.  I silently joined her as the children's laughter drowned out our throbbing hearts.