Mama was just misunderstood

This is where it all went down, my grocery

I told a homeless man to die last week. Bless his heart, he was standing in front of the supermarket trying to sell his homeless society newspaper to make enough money to sleep in the homeless shelter and I told him to die.

As I walked out of the supermarket he said "Hi" and I happily responded with a big friendly grin on my face in a my slow southern accent "Die" (which probably sounded more like Dyyyye) So not only did he get insulted but nice and slow in case he didn't understand.

Of course I didn't mean to tell the guy to drop dead, what I meant to say was either "Dag" (the Dutch equivalent to hello or goodbye to someone you don't know) or "Hi" which was what I normally said in English. Instead he got one of my brain dead Mama Denglish combos "Die".

I walked past him feeling good about myself hoping that my sweet smile and salutation would maybe somehow just make this guy's day a bit brighter. It wasn't until a few seconds later that I realized what I had said. Jezzzzz! What an idiot I was, how could I get so confused! But then again I had just put pure coconut oil on my hair thinking it was conditioner, so obviously the elevator was not going all the way up.

I stopped walking away and thought to myself, maybe I should go back and explain to him what I was trying to say. But then again maybe he wasn't really paying attention. Besides, what would I say to him, "Hello mister, I am a mother who speaks two languages and I haven't slept in two days, my son has been awake all night last night and my daughter the night before and my hair is dripping with coconut oil and I had two really busy days at work and actually I haven't really slept in five years and I never know what language to speak in anymore because I am so confused because I can speak two languages.

Why would this guy care about my problems? At least I had a roof over my head and money to buy food. God, I felt terrible but I decided it was best to keep walking. I hoped that he didn't hear me or the blinding warmth of my smile made him temporarily deaf to my faux pas. I hoped that if he did indeed hear me that he wouldn't remember me the next time he saw me. I hoped and hoped feeling rotten all the way home...and then it faded into the back of my subconsciousness...

Until I went to the supermarket today and he was standing at the door. My heart raced when I saw him standing there, but surely he saw hundreds of people a day so how could he ever remember what each person said. So I sucked it up and began my walk of shame into the supermarket. I was brave and looked at him in the eyes and said "Hi".

He glared back and turned his head! He remembered! And he snubbed me! He snubbed me the way I often saw others snubbing him! Jez, I felt terrible! I wondered, was this how terrible he felt every time people turned their heads when he said hello.

As I walked around filling up my shopping basket, feeling horrible, I thought to myself, I was just misunderstood. I could fix it! I had to fix it! Besides, I can't afford to shop at the other supermarket and he was at the door everday. I had to face the problem and solve it!

So on my way out of the door I took a deep breath and walked straight up to the man. I touched his arm gently and looked deep into his eyes and gave him a slow wink and the word "Hi" rolled off my tongue like a bowling ball getting ready to go into the gutter.

With a surprised look he said hi and then a smile spread across his face and his eyes began to sparkle. SCORE! Forgiven! Finally, Mama was no longer misunderstood...so lesson learned...gonna stick to my trusty mother tongue, FLIRT!

Mama lost her baby!

For almost 2 hours, I thought this would be the last pic of my baby

It has taken me four days but I can now finally write about the worst two hours of my life. I lost my precious baby boy for almost two hours during a family outing to the beach this past weekend. He escaped my attention for literally two minutes and BAM he was off the radar.

We had just walked up from the beach to one of the "strand tents" as they call them here in Holland. It's basically a temporay retsuarnt/cafe on the beach. We had met some friends and we were kissing them hello (good excuse not to kiss anymore) and my four-year old vanished. It was that fast.

I have to admit I am a hawk when it comes to my kids and have been criticized by some that I need to even let go, give my babies more freedom. So when my baby boy disappeared, one can imagine how hard I began beating myself up.

I immediately looked around the outdoor cafe, in every nook and cranny that I could find. No snot nose anywhere! My heart began to beat so fast and the panic started. I ran over to our table and told Baby Daddy and he said "Don't panic, we will find him." Ok baby daddy said not to panic, I won't panic, this is his country he knows. So I thought fast and went to the manager of the restaurant and told him my son was missing.

The manager pulled me behind the bar and into his office and immediately called Emergency Services and reported my son as missing. Because I am psycho paranoid Mama, I was able to give a very detailed description of his clothes and even that he was barefoot with his jogging pants rolled just under the knee.
So within 10 minutes of the last time we saw him Dutch Baywatch (with temp crew member Baby Daddy) was out combing the beach for my lost baby boy.

Meanwhile, I was at the restaurant with our friend and her 4 month-old baby. I sat there for a few minutes and the panic started to creep into my thoughts again....I had to do something. The restaurant had dispatched a few of its staff to search the beach so I decided to go out on the beach myself. I couldn't just sit around and wait.

I frantically asked everyone in the restaurant if they had seen my precious and then journeyed out on the beach. And that was when it hit me...my son had been missing for one hour at this point. Kids who get lost on the beach or run off are found by now. I knew the stories. I knew the stats. And I knew my baby was out there somewhere all alone or even worse...someone had taken him. Then I thought to myself, no one would take him it's Holland, its safe. But then again no one is really safe anymore.

I chocked back the tears as I thought about the last time I held him and smelled his fluffy blonde hair. I thought about his little mischievious giggle and his obsession with sharks. I couldn't be brave any longer, there was a chance that I might not ever see my baby again, ever.

I began to think about the parents who have missing children that they never find and I couldn't imagine going through the rest of my life with that feeling, that uncertainty. I began to blame myself...if only I hadn't turned my head to say hello to my friends...if only I had't agreed to meet them here...if only we hadn't come to the beach...if only I had been a better mother. I couldn't breathe. Someone had my baby and I would never see him again...

I wandered up and down the beach asking everyone I came in contact with and with each passing person my hope was diminishing. I tried to stay positive but as I made my way back to the restaurant I felt like I was going to die. I just wanted to skip ahead in time...or I wanted to go back and do things differently so my little boy was safe in my arms.

My stomach began to feel sick and I was about to collapse into a weeping ball on the beach when I got a call from Baby Daddy:  Hallelujah, Luca found HIS way back to the restaurant! My baby was safe and waiting for his Mama!

But instead of being overjoyed...I was angry! He FOUND his way back! WTF...he told my friends that he never left the restaurant (which later I found out was a lie). He was unaffected by his disappearance act...he was amused...no trauma, no lesson learned (because he did it again the next day in the park!)

I am sure my "newbie parent" friends thought I was a B-I-T-C-H because I didn't immediately cuddle my baby boy...instead I started in on him. Matter of fact, it took me about an hour before I could hold him. And I was still shaking two days after the incident and today I am still traumatized to tears when I think about what could have been. The first thing I did when I got home was eat a pint of chocolate ice cream. Screw all the emotional eating therapy...Mama was traumatized.

The positive thing is that by talking to other parents about it, I found comfort and I also found out that it takes maybe even weeks to recover. AND after almost two hours of beating myself up for being a bad mother realizing that I'm not a bad mother, it happens to even the best parents. But I will go back to my neurotic, psycho surveillance of every move my babies make until they are from under my roof! I would rather be a psycho then ever having that feeling again of a mother who has a missing child. Matter-of-fact, I think i will just "chip" my kids like the do for cats in this country...maybe a GPS chip...And maybe one day I will set them free, but in the meantime it's psycho for me!

Lessons learned:

• Missing kids on the beach walk with wind and sun behind them
• Holland has an amazing child rescue system
• It's hard to stay positive in a real-life situation
• Drill your kids on your address
• Teach your kids a plan if they are missing
• Unconditional love: You can love and totally want to ring your kids neck at the same time
• Not to judge parents who keep their kids on a leash
• Really read the missing kids adverts
• Count my blessings everyday
• Kiss my babies everyday and cherish every moment

One bad Mama

This is how the daycare walks the babies to the park, its a stroller for 4 kids.

I just realized today that I am one bad mama. No, not "bad" in the cool sense of the word, but bad in the not-so-great sense. I'm not at all the mother I thought I was gonna be when I sat on the couch every nite stroking the growing alien in my belly.

Way back in 2007BC (Before children) I thought I was gonna be one bad ass mama. I was gonna be this really cool chick who just happen to be a mama giving motherhood a new meaning. I was gonna have it all, especially holding on tight to "Me"". I was gonna walk the streets pushin my very expensive buggy and all the other mamas would whisper, "Wow how does she do it? She is the coolest mama in the hood!"

And then I gave birth...

And then instead of wearing clothes, I wear my yoga pants everyday.

Instead of having the perfectly styled hair, my scalp goes days without seeing a brush.

Instead of me strutting down the street proudly pushing my babies in the buggy, I am so insecure sometimes, I just stare ahead.

Instead of everyday being a celebration of life, I often spend the entire day fussing, disciplining and trying not to smile.

Instead of being the coolest, laid-back mama at the playground, I'm constantly worried if my daughter is gonna fall off the slide head first.

Instead of enjoying every precious minute with my babies, I'm prayin for bedtime to come quickly.

Instead of keeping the romance alive with Baby Daddy, I'm watching the back of my eyelids by 10pm every night.

Instead of a glass of wine in my hand at the end of the day, I have a poop diaper in one and a snotty tissue ball in the other.

Instead of being a Bad Ass Mama, I am a real Mama...insecure, tired, disheveled, yelling but HAPPY!