Guest Blogger

This is the second of five Drop-In Centre guest posts by Leanne Shirtliffe of www.ironicmom.com over the month of March. Come back every Wednesday to get her humorous take on holidays big and small, real and made-up.

Today is National Panic Day. I don’t know the origin of this pseudo-holiday, but I’d bet a mother who lost her child in Wal-Mart coined it. I’m pretty sure looking for a kid amidst aisles of plastic would make most of us candidates for a defibrillator.

I’m thankful I have yet to permanently lose my six-year-olds, but I have had many opportunities to panic. Here are two that I’ve yet to forget. 

Panic #1: Sprinting towards an intersection
Vivian and William are four and have just finished their third round of tag on the play structure when I look at the time. I negotiate with them and finally convince them we needed to return home. One minute they’re debating with me to stay longer, while the next minute they’re challenging each other to a race. I am still in the starting blocks, shoving juice boxes and hats into my bag, when I hear, “On your mark, get so, go.” Down the hill my kids fly, gathering speed in a full-tilt Donavan Bailey sprint. The sidewalk conveniently empties into the middle of a traffic circle on a busy residential street. I take off.

Picture a thirty-something woman wielding a floppy sun hat as a weapon, tearing through the grass in an attempted shortcut, and you’re close. “Stop!” I yell in my psycho mom voice, a tone they hadn’t heard in at least two days. My daughter freezes. My son doesn’t; evidently he thinks the race is a middle distance one. Several long strides later, I simultaneously grab him by the arm and scream again. Insert wails. A car brakes. We stop at the edge of the sidewalk and breathe. Upright and together.

Panic #2: Making a noose
We have one of those swing sets from a decade or two ago; you know, the ones that are rusting, made with lead paint, and offer metallic splinters for free. It’s a warm day. I’m sitting at the table reading the paper while Vivian and William set up Ode to Obstacle Course in our backyard, which involves taking every toy, stick, and rock, placing them on our grass, and yelling while they hop around, over, and on the junk.

I’ve just finished reading the comics section when I hear silence. I look up, and see my kids swinging, sort of. Vivian is pumping maniacally, seeing if she can get the entire swing set to buck onto its rear legs. William has wrapped a frayed rope around his neck, the one from the broken swing, when the entire set starts rocking.

Once again, I perfected the screaming-in-motion parenting technique. And, as usual, all was fine.

So, Happy (?) Panic Day. I think I’m going to celebrate by trying not to have a parenting crisis.
 

Leanne Shirtliffe is the mother of six-year-old twins, William and Vivian, also known as Thing One and Thing Two. Leanne lives by the motto, "If you can't laugh at yourself, laugh at your kids." When she's not telling her children to stop licking a frozen flagpole, she's writing and teaching teens. She blogs at IronicMom.com. Follow her on Twitter @ironic_mom.