I lost three things during a family outing yesterday, but I got the most important one back.
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When I was a kid, I wandered away from my mom once. Okay, twice.
I must've been really young the first time, as it's all quite hazy. We were at Longs at Pearlridge, I hadn't a care in the world, and suddenly, I was by myself. I got scared and cried, a nice lady took me somewhere in back, a "lost boy" page went out over the PA system, and I was quickly rescued.
The second time, I was definitely old enough to know better. We were in Liberty House, and I was being a brat, climbing deep into the clothes racks to hide, sporadically jumping out with a "boo!" and thinking myself quite clever. Well, I burrowed a little too deeply into some dresses, and after working my way back and lunging at a familiar pair of legs, imagine my shock when I realized I was clinging to a stranger. (In retrospect, she was quite calm about the whole thing.) I was so freaked out my ears were ringing, and I started circling the store in tears, only barely whispering for my mommy, as I was both desperate to find her and terrified of what she'd say.
She found me by the escalators, and though it boggled my mind at the time, she was absolutely ecstatic about it. It made no sense, as I knew I'd made an awful mistake and nearly lost my family forever, but she just picked me up and carried me out, all smiles. I think she even bought me ice cream. Mint chocolate chip.
It was probably one of the most terrifying experiences of my young life. But as it turns out, it's pretty horrific for grown ups as well.
I lost Zac yesterday. I'm pretty sure the experience took ten to twelve years off my life.
We were back at the Children's Discovery Center for a special "Tooth Fairy" event sponsored by the state's largest dental insurer. They arranged for free admission to its members, and considering how expensive the place usually is, I was eager to take advantage of the offer. The line wrapped halfway around the block, but it moved quickly, and soon enough, were were inside with 500 other parents and kids.
We had never seen the place so crowded, which I suppose should have been my first hint that things might go awry. Sometimes we're one of maybe a handful of families in the place, but this time it was wall-to-wall people. Not oppressively crowded, but not calm and orderly, either. After doing the token circuit around the "dental health" displays — Katie decorating a "tooth box" and nabbing a set of chattering teeth — we split up to take on the rest of the facility.
Jen, with Alex slung over her shoulder, followed Katie around, and I was Zac's partner. While Katie gravitated toward the cook 'n' costume international village on the third floor, Zac preferred the fire station and stage on the ground level.
Now, Zac is very active, a fast-moving kid who can easily outrun my mom and who often forces Jen and I into a sprint to keep up. So, of course we're always on guard. As he darted about, I stayed close, locked on, trying to lure him into various activities if only to distract him long enough to catch my breath. The day was going great, except for when I realized I'd misplaced Katie's tooth-related prizes. Zac stomped over to the "construction zone," stacked some cardboard bricks, then put on a hard hat and waved at me.
"Nice hat!" I said.
"Yeah," he said, knocking it with his knuckles. "Hat!"
And then he took off.
I had two quick thoughts: one, he wants to show his mom, and two, he's headed for the elevator. I jogged after him. But that one second of thinking was apparently long enough for him to give me the slip. I rounded the corner, and he wasn't there.
Deep breath.
What was that, five seconds? How far could he have gone? I started a methodical search. First I looked in the areas directly adjacent to where I'd last seen him. Nope. Then, I decided to instead check the places in the center he liked the best. Nope. Then, I basically lost it and ran around randomly, searching the crowd for a little boy in a red shirt and overalls. It might've just been five minutes, by this point, but it felt like half a day. Half a cold, ominous day.
Maybe Zac did go off in search of his mom, I thought. And maybe he even knew that they were one or two floors up. But if I looked there, I realized, I might make things worse if he's actually still on the ground floor. It was time to fess up.
I called Jen. She was not happy. But she started looking.
I started my search anew. And suddenly bumped into a coworker. She saw the panic on my face. And I was too worked up to keep my yap shut. "I lost Zac," I said. She joined the hunt.
My phone rang. It was Jen. She'd contacted a staffmember, who said there was a designated "lost kid" person to whom every lost kid is taken. I had to find her. But first, Jen said, I should check out the entrance to the place. Maybe Zac had tried to go all the way.
I was not entirely relieved when I saw Zac wasn't near the main door, since it was an unattended main door, and I doubted anyone would've noticed a kid walking out by himself.
My phone rang again. This time, it was my coworker. "I got him!"
He was found in the arts and crafts room, maybe ten feet from where I last saw him. I doubted that he'd been there the whole time, though. First, I looked there. I know I did! Secondly, he no longer had the hard hat, and it was still missing from the peg on the wall.
I called Jen. She came downstairs to glare at me. We thanked my coworker, knowing full well my whole company would know about this fiasco in short order. Then, we left, all together, relieved and exhausted.
Katie had sensed our concern, and on the drive home suddenly recalled with perfect clarity an incident maybe a year ago at Costco: We were right behind her, looking right at her, but she still thought we'd disappeared and panicked and ran straight for the door. Fortunately, an employee scooped her up and walked her back. She was white as a sheet, but it was over so fast, I figured she'd forgotten. "You never forget a moment like that, huh?" I asked, trying to sound like a smart parent instead of a hapless dork. "That's why we're not kidding when we tell you to stay close, or to hold our hand."
The real kicker, though, is that Zac apparently didn't even know he was lost. He must've just kept wandering about, oblivious to my absence. Which means, while I might have learned an important lesson (leashes are not such a bad idea?), he's undoubtedly going to bolt from us again, probably sometime soon.
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It occurred to me, after we got home, that the Children's Discover Center seems remarkably unconcerned about the relatively free access it affords its guests.
I mean, they charge $8 a head to get in, but apart from pushing a lever down on a little metal clicker, they're not tracking people in any way. Compare that to Chuck E. Cheese's, a rinky-dink operation with free admission, where kids and parents get the same stamp when they enter and where stamps are compared before anyone can leave. No kid gets out without the people he or she came in with.
Even if Zac wouldn't actually leave the center, it seems to me someone could have easily taken him out. It's not like Hawaii is crawling with kidnappers and pedophiles or anything, but still... I think I'm going to suggest just a little more vigilance in their operations.
They could certainly afford it.
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For a short month, we managed to cram in a lot of family stuff.
Notably, we were invited to Jen's nephew Erik's birthday party, and got to see her brother Mike and sister-in-law Diane. Considering all the hand-wringing Jen does over the level of contact she has with the only family she has in Hawaii, this was an encouraging development. They even seemed happy to see us.
Of course Erik's sister Alaina was there, as was his baby sister Danielle. And although Danielle was born only two days before Alex was, she seemed noticably bigger, and she was already scooting around in a wheeled walker. (Jen and I ran out and picked one up soon afterward.) The kids had a blast playing with each other, and there was a big inflatable jumper there, which meant they got to crash into each other as well. There was even a pinata, which (as seems to be common) eventually required adult intervention to "deploy."
Apart from Diane's dad, just in from the Mainland, all the other guests were neighbors, meaning military folks, so most of the conversation went over our heads. It is always interesting to hear outsiders' perspectives on your home town, and to be asked for some "insider" advice. Well, I was actually just called a "civillian," but that works too. The most valued information seemed to be where to find screaming-kid-friendly restaurants.
We left with more promises to get together again, but perhaps they'll stick, as apparently Diane is bringing the kids out to Mililani later this week. I'd really like Katie, Zac and Alex to know their cousins on Jen's side, especially since Jen's brother won't be stationed here forever.
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The very next day, we went to the Bishop Museum. Two of my dad friends, Peter and Oliver, were also going to be there with their kids. Now, while Peter, Oliver and I meet up for lunch at least once a week, and we talk incessantly about our kids (and geek stuff, to be sure), we haven't previously been able to get our families together. A new exhibit at Bishop Museum provided the perfect excuse.
First we had a big picnic right in the front courtyard of the museum. Me, Jen, and our kids. Peter, Wendy, and their daughters. And Oliver and his three kids, plus a friend and her son. The kids chased each other around, climbed trees, adopted our van as a jungle gym, and stuffed their faces with hot dogs, pizza, and chicken. Then, all fifteen of us ambled in to see what's up.
As it turns out, it was a relatively small exhibit focused on math and nature, but with such great company, there was no shortage of activity or conversation. We had a really good time, and I was actually kind of annoyed with myself for not going out of my way to arrange something like that before. We all agreed it was a fun excursion, and we've already started talking about a beach picnic sometime next month.
I need to remember that, while I might have lost most of the friends I had before I had kids, I have plenty of great friends today who are parents like me. Rather than apologizing for being late, or for the mess, or for the noise, we all just give each other knowing smiles and talk about diapers and schools. Sometimes I still feel like a freak, but there are lots of freaks out there up for an outing or two.
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Alex continues to teethe, with no real signs of a tooth just yet. Well, Jen called me at work this morning convinced she felt something, but... after a lot of probing (that pissed him off something fierce), I haven't been able to find what she's talking about.
Since he remains an almost freakishly quiet baby, there isn't much crying, but there is a lot of whimpering, and an overwhelming need to be carried every waking moment of the day. Suffice it to say, while Jen and I have been keeping up with our gym plan, she's probably getting more than enough upper arm work just carrying Alex around all day.
He can sit up on his own now, and he's really getting a hang of his body — reaching for stuff (like beards), turning this way and that to follow people around the room, and doing a flapping thing with his arm that apparently indicates desire (usually for his mommy). Every little milestone is thrilling, and a little sad. Even the baby of the family is growing up.
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