This could have been a depressing post

This could have been a depressing post. I thought of a few titles over the last few days:

Hugging a little tighter
That story mothers have
Still here.
Borrowed time.

All mothers . . I guess parents, have a story about their kids. That story of almost. My parents have a few of my brothers who were so sick with croup they sat in an oxygen tent, and my parents just waited for daylight at the hospital because when the sun came up for some reason--my brothers could breathe.

I have a friend that tells of how the longest 20 minutes of her life was when one of her twins wandered off in the mall and couldn't be found.

The contractor that just finished my porch just told me his story of his 8 week old who was turning blue and then was hospitalized for a week with RSV.

I didn't have one of those stories. I never wanted one. But I knew one would happen. And I just hoped it would be almost.

And it was.

On my husbands birthday we did what many people do--we hit up the local free food joints. So we loaded the car up and headed to Joe's Farm Grill for Hyrum's free meal. And we took the kids because it has this outside fenced off back area with picnic tables and a good sized lawn for the kids to play. We got our stuff and sat down and ate--and were joined by his brother and his wife and daughter. The kids were running around, and i had my eye on them. NO biggie. Beck kept running toward the fence which is by a major road and then just looking back at us--taunting. This kid is a runner. When the front door opens--he runs. fast. straight to the middle of the street. It's scary. So I keep the door latched with a metal chain up high--and watch him like a hawk. So we are eating and he is running around and I am not taking my eye off of him. Then he ducks under the fence that borders a coffee shop. No biggie. (I am shaking while writing this with sweaty hands because it was that traumatic to me) It has a front lawn as well. So I turn to my left and tell my 8 year old to go get her brother. And then she yells, "Beck". And that signals him to run--because it's a game. And he runs--not toward the safe coffee house, or even the opposite way from her. He turns left and runs straight for the street. I hadn't noticed that there was an arch right there on his left, and open entry way--that part was blocked in my view by a tree.

So he runs.

And Hyrum who is sitting by me runs.

And I mutter . . . oh shit . .. oh shit .. and then louder OH SHIT!

And then I scream.

A primal mothering scream. I remember thinking that if I screamed maybe the people in the car would hear and stop.

And he ran right into the street.

Right in front of a car.

And it braked and laid on its horn.

And Hyrum swiped him off the street.

We were lucky.

The car stopped a few feet away from him.

It's 25 mph on that street. And they were all just accelerating from the light which was about 30 yards away.

I sat down and looked over at my sister-in-law whose eyes were welled up with tears, and I cried. Slowly, not loud, just quietly wiping tears.

It was scary. Too scary.

Hyrum carried him directly to the car and clipped him in. And disciplined him on the way.

Lunch was over. We grabbed the flip flops that were around and headed to the car.

And I tears fell from my eyes--for about an hour.

I did what every mom does. I play through the worst case scenario--even though the best case scenario happened. I imagined him gone. And I cried.

We went to the outdoor mall directly afterward, to get a new mouse for the computer. And we stopped while my husband ran our 6 year old into the bathroom. My 8 year old got out of her seatbelt, and hung over the front seat and said,

"I unclicked. I wanted to hug Beck. . . . . I don't ever want to talk about this again."

And I looked in my rearview mirror and she was just snuggled chest to chest with him while he was safe in his carseat.

I knew what she felt. I wanted to do that too.

Those two have a special relationship and that day could have crushed her. And me. And my poor husband on his birthday of all days.

See. This could be a depressing post.

It's scary. And tears are dropping down as I write this. But it's not depressing.

It's now my almost story.