Missing…Posted: January 2, 2013 | |
Today spawned a crisis in the Hausfrau Husband household. No, I didn’t go into preterm labor, although I did my best to bring it on. (Ok, maybe not my best. But I was a bit active and panicky).
Big Boy Owl (aka, BBO) went missing. Around 4:30 pm, El Papa, Das Big Boy, and I realized he was gone when Das Big Boy began asking for him. El Papa and I conducted an intense search. This is where I attempted to bring on preterm labor.
But first, some back story about both me and Das Big Boy. For my entire life, I have had an attachment to my comfort objects which borders on (crosses well into?) the problematic. Sad Happy, my teddy bear, and Fuzzy, my blanket, accompanied me throughout life: They appeared in my nursery school class pictures, seated by my side. They came on vacations around the world until I entered my teen years. They came to college, and hid in my pillowcase. They joined me when Herr Husband and I moved in together in June of 2000 (for those of you paying attention, that means we moved in together a mere six months after we started dating). And they saw me through my six and a half weeks of hospital bedrest when I was inpatient before birthing Das Big Boy.
But Fuzzy disappeared shortly after we moved into our suburban home. I’d like to imagine he’ll turn up someday, but the truth is Herr Husband and I tore the house apart, and I think the sad truth is that the cleaning people mistook him for a cleaning rag and disposed of him. Now I love our cleaning people, and I’m ridiculously grateful/spoiled that we even have them. But I also freely admit that I did some crying and handwringing over Fuzzy’s loss. No need to say how much.
Das Big Boy is actually a late-comer to the comfort object game. I hypothesize this is because he had his parents as comfort objects for longer than most kids. This is what happens when you have a medically fragile kid who sleeps in his parents’ room until he’s sixteen months old (because we couldn’t put a kid on o2 in his own room). Also, I’m not sure I believe in Cry It Out anyway, but I can tell you that when your kid’s version of Cry It Out is cry-all-the-food-you-worked-so-hard-to-get-into-me-right-back-out-of my-stomach, it’s not a good choice for your family. So anyway, Das Big Boy had lots of toys he liked, but not that one thing he looked to for snuggling.
Until Big Boy Owl. Now Das Big Boy needs BBO at bedtime, and he brings him into stressful situations and hugs him to feel better. Big Boy Owl goes to school with Das Big Boy, and on our recent outing to the neighbors, Big Boy Owl helped Das Big Boy settle in. He also just enjoys carrying him all over the house.
So today, when Big Boy Owl turned up missing, I panicked. El Papa and I searched everywhere. I did entirely too much standing and walking and squatting to look under stuff. El Papa worked very hard both at searching and keeping me calm. I texted poor Nanny Sunshine for ideas–of which she had several good ones, but none panned out. I never suspected her, as their only outing was to the library and I distinctly recalled not seeing BBO accompany them. This did not stop me from calling the library. Now my real suspects were my wonderful cleaning people, who are incredibly thorough, but sometimes put stuff away in odd places such that I can’t find it. So I texted the business owner, who wasn’t even here today, to see if they had any idea where he might be. But I didn’t hear back.
Increasingly worried, I texted Herr Husband, who promised to find him when he got home. I tried to sit on the couch while he looked, but was pretty much freaking out as he scoured the house. But after half an hour of thorough searching, Herr Husband’s gifts as finder paid off. Shoved way back in a wine rack was Big Boy Owl. Crisis averted.
Except for my blood pressure, and, frankly, my pelvic pressure. Yes, all those third trimester ladies were right: It does hurt your pelvis and spine when an almost-six-pound person is squirreled away in your body. I’m actually amused by these normal pregnancy symptoms, even if I walk like an obese old cavewoman.
So I’m going to take a bath and revel in Big Boy Owl’s homecoming. And don’t worry. I already text-apologized to all of the people I brought into my crazy!