confessions of an overprotective mom.

The other night, my little Leo set out for his very first sleepover. He was with his big sister, his aunt Amanda and her son, and boy was he excited! I was fishing for some signs that he was still my little baby boy and was not yet ready for this milestone:

“Are you really sure you want to go with them? You’ll be there all night. If you wake up in the middle of the night, I won’t be there.”

“Get my jammies and put them in my backpack” (like big sis).

He wore that backpack proudly as he stormed out the door on a mission. I couldn’t take my eyes off him until he was out of sight, and he never even looked back.
I decided to relax and enjoy a rare, quiet evening at home with my love. I sent out (what was meant to be) one last text to Amanda to see how things were going. She promptly responded that all the kids had been sound asleep for over an hour and everything was fine. She even followed with a very sweet picture of the three kids sitting side by side on the couch eating popcorn. Everything was fine (although popcorn always makes me nervous with its possible choking hazard).

As I lay on the couch with my head on Darren’s lap, I was indeed relaxed and even dozing off. And then, “crazy mom” woke me up. I could not stop thinking of things that could go wrong. And if I tried to close my eyes, I could actually see all of these things playing out.

“I better text Amanda and remind her to blow out the candles before she goes to bed” I say to Darren, waiting for him to second my paranoia, but nothing. Sure she’ll think I’m being a little crazy, especially since she had no candles burning. But she’s a mom, she’d understand.

“No candles burning” she quickly responds.

“I better remind her to lock the doors.” Still no back up from daddy.

“Doors are locked” she assures me, even before she got my text. (Isn’t she clever).

“Maybe I should…”

“Why don’t you just go get him!” Daddy finally chimes in.

“Do you think I should?” I ask, pretending the thought hadn’t already crossed my mind and that I hadn’t been fighting that very urge for the last hour.

“Well how many texts do you plan on sending?”

“I’ll just send one more…to tell her that I’m coming to get him.”

“Really?”

“He’s our little baby and it’s his first sleepover.”

“Yes…it was” he concludes.

“Why don’t we all go and we can stop for some hot fudge Sundays?” Darren suggests. I may be crazy for wanting to go wake up our sound asleep two year old to bring him home but now he’s suggesting we wake up our 4 month old and drag him out for a hot fudge Sunday.

I send the text and put my shoes on.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, what about my hot fudge Sunday?” I hear as I race out the door before any of my visions come true.

On my way to rescue little Leo, Amanda calls to assure me that he is fine. I tell her that while I do feel a little crazy, I’m already on my way.

“Really???” she says confirming my craziness.

“I know, but it’s his first sleepover and he still wakes up during the night sometimes (or at least that one time last month) and what if he wakes up and doesn’t know where he is and what if………………………………..” I think I’ve made my point.

As I walk out with my sleeping child in tow, I thank her for indulging my paranoia, invite her for breakfast in the morning, and ask her not to mention this incident to anyone (despite already composing this blog in my head).

Leo wakes up in the car:

“I just missed you honey and I had to come get you, okay?”

“Okaaaaayyyyy”, he tiredly grumbles. I can tell he’s relieved, or at least not pissed at me for crashing his party.

The next morning, Amanda arrives with my daughter and her son, both of whom ask me why I took Leo last night.

“I was just worried about him. He’s a little guy.”

“Well, he was fine ya know.” I’m being ridiculed by two six year olds.

Leo will be three next month. He is transitioning from my little baby who I always felt so bad for because he couldn’t keep up with the big kids, to a strong willed and independent little guy who is more than willing to at least try. It’s a difficult line for a parent to walk. I want him to be brave and capable, and I want him to need his mommy. I want him to tough it out, I only wish I could tough it out. I want to enjoy time alone with my love, and I want to know my children are safe under our roof. I want to loosen my grip, but I will NEVER let go.

I ask Leo if he was happy that I brought him home:

“I was sleeping in the big bed like a big boy and I wanted a drink of water but I couldn’t get the door open so I went back to sleep in the big bed.”

Thank goodness I rescued him. Poor little thing was thirsty!