What the Longest 90 Seconds of my Life Taught Me about Parenting.

It was an ordinary day.

It was a crazy-rushed morning getting the two older kids out the door to the school bus, as usual. Despite our best efforts at smooth mornings, nothing seems to do the trick. We lay out our clothes, have easy breakfasts planned, and give the kids plenty of time to wake up.

No matter what happens though, we always have our good-bye rituals: hugs and kisses, “I love you’s,” kissing hands, and waves goodbye from the door as the bus pulls away.

On this particular crazy morning, finally, the bus pulled away and the toddler and I breathed probably an audible sigh of relief into the sudden quiet of the house. I made us both breakfast, then we sat down to play for a bit.

The Phone Call

About an hour and twenty minutes later, the phone rang. Caller ID told me it was the school.

“Hi,” said the secretary. “I’m calling about TJ.”

You guys, at this point, no big deal. Since my 4-year-old started preschool, I have been called multiple times about falls down/off the slide on the playground, (still not entirely sure what happened but it made for a memorable school picture!), a fat lip, and a tooth that got almost knocked out thanks to bumping heads with another little boy. So in my head I really was thinking, “what happened now?”

Long pause. Finally I said, “okayyyyyy, what happened this time to TJ?”

Another long pause.

Then she says, “Uh, well, he’s not in school today.”

This is the point where if I had a heart condition I surely would not be on this earth to tell this story right now.

I won’t even sugar-coat it. I lost it. I shrieked into the phone, “WHAT?!? I SENT HIM TO SCHOOL ON THE BUS THIS MORNING.”

She replied, “uhhh, let me check and get back to you.”

And she hung up the phone!

I tried not to hyperventilate as I paced around for a few seconds with every horrible, awful scenario going through my head.

Then I snapped out of it, grabbed the toddler, grabbed a sweatshirt, slipped on my boots and ran out the door. I guess I was going to drive to town and start looking for my son.

My phone rang. It was the secretary, saying there had been a mistake and the wrong child’s name got written down on the absence form. TJ was in fact at school.

I hung up the phone and burst into tears.

I almost drove to the school to pick him up.

But I went back inside and proceeded to spend the next two hours trying to slow down my breathing and convincing myself not to throw up.

I couldn’t stop shaking.

My phone log tells me there were just under 90 seconds between those calls. It felt like it was a lifetime.

Reflection

Do you know what else went through my head in those short seconds that felt like an eternity?

I kept replaying the morning over and over again. Did I tell him I loved him? Of course I did. Did I hug and kiss him? Of course I did. Did I make him FEEL loved by his mommy? Yes.

At the risk of sounding pessimistic, I could not help but think about what if he’s NOT at school. How would we remember our last time together?

I only allowed these thoughts for a few seconds at most, but after the whole situation was over, I obviously was very shaken and couldn’t stop mulling the whole thing over.

At our house, we have always prescribed to the belief that you never leave without saying “I love you,” and the same goes for hugs and kisses.

You better believe that will NEVER change now. That 90 seconds reinforced just how important our goodbye rituals are. Not just to the kids, but to us parents too.

I don’t ever ever want to someday have to look back and question if I said goodbye or showed someone my love one last time before they left my presence.

I always want there to be no doubt in my kids’ minds about how I feel about them. Even when we have crazy mornings. Even when one or more of them (or us) are crying at some point. Even when they fight (because that’s almost daily).

I get down to eye-level, I tell them I love them, we give hugs and kisses, kissing hands, and we say bye.

That 90 seconds taught me how important our rituals are. It made me feel like if nothing else, I am getting one part of parenting right.

Don’t forget to make your own good-bye rituals. This story had a happy ending. But none of us know when the last goodbye will be.

*Important note: I will not entertain comments about the secretary or teacher. We are all human and we all make mistakes. They both apologized profusely, and I forgave them on the spot. That’s not the point of this story.*