Published+Writing+Piece



As I am walking through the parking lot, I feel the cool rain hitting my warm skin. While rainy days usually are miserable and sad, this one takes me back in time. I am reminded of a time my husband and I went up to the beach to see the stormy ocean waters. Rather than feeling blinded by the sandy wind and salty rain, we childishly ran down the boardwalk laughing and holding hands, then fell into the car soaking wet. We were young, with very little responsibility other than maintaining our love.

Now, times are a bit more complicated. There are kids, jobs, lost friendships, and housework. Driving home all I can think about is what I’m going to make for dinner, and I’m wondering whether my mother made her prized grandchildren clean up their toys – that I usually come home to find strewn across the house.

I turn down our quaint little cul-de-sac named Yellowstone Court. Pulling up to our 1960’s style ranch home, I am surprised to see my husband’s car in the driveway. I walk in the door to find a house and a husband that are both cleaner than usual.

“Hey….sweetie, what’s going on?” I ask slyly.

“Well, we haven’t had a special night out in a while, so I wanted to surprise you. I got comedy show tickets from Joe at work. And then we’re going to that little bistro you love.”

“I don’t know, I’ve had a very long day. And what are we going to do with the kids?”

He just smiles, shushes me and points upstairs – signaling me to go get ready. Although I’m not a big fan of surprises, I can’t resist this. He gives me the face I love – serious forehead and mouth, with happy eyes that tell me he’s trying to step up and make a romantic gesture. So, I make my way upstairs, rediscovering my love an appreciation for my husband. Moments like these help me remember how lucky I am to have a beautiful life and family.

As I’m using masking tape to de-lint my favorite little black dress, sadness comes over me. I start thinking about how happy I am that we’re going out on a date after six long months. We haven’t been able to find a reliable babysitter since my best friend and I stopped talking. Mary and I have been friends since 5th grade. She knows all of my secrets; she was the one who I talked to about boys, family and everything else a growing young woman experienced. Although life tried to pull us apart at times, we were always able to find our way back. If we got busy and couldn’t talk for a while, we’d make sure to schedule a lunch or dinner date and gab for hours to catch up on every detail that we had missed. Up until about six months ago, we still had a rock-solid friendship, or so I thought.

She stuck with me after I had Charlie and after I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. It was the lowest time of my life, but she stuck through for a good five months. Then, we hit a breaking point and had the biggest fight we’d ever had. I hung up the phone on her, and neither of us ever called back. Maybe it was me, maybe it was her – maybe we both were at fault. All I know is that I’m feeling better in life now, and I absolutely love my family.

I try on the earrings that Mary gave me, and they go perfectly with this dress. I would love to send her a picture message of me wearing them. Or, even better, I’d love to walk downstairs and show her in person. However, we’re both too stubborn to ever let that happen. Instead, I walk downstairs to find a twenty-something conservative looking young woman. She is my husband’s co-worker’s best friend’s cousin’s daughter – and she also is the babysitter for my children tonight. I take a deep breath and tell myself not to work. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Brown. I babysit my little cousins all the time!” she attempts to reassure me.

I shoot my husband a look and he smiles to relieve my worries. For the second time this evening, my husband has everything taken care of. “I gave her all the numbers and keys and all the information,” he says.

“But what about…?”

He interrupts, “I got it, let’s get going.”

I kiss my little boys and tell them to behave.

On our way to the bistro, my husband is very patient as I quiz him about everything he knows or has heard about this new babysitter.

“Maybe I should call home…just to check on everything,” I suggest.

“Honey, while I know you’re worried about the kids because we haven’t been out in a while, there’s nothing to be worried about. And I think we owe it to ourselves to take a night off to go on a date.”

I put the phone down, and once again take a deep breath.

While I am enjoying this surprise date, I can’t help but feel angry with both myself and Mary. Why did we have to fight? Could I just call her and make things better? It’s been six months of no communication; does she even want the friendship back? My children are home with a stranger right now doing God knows what, when they should be playing Candyland and watching Peter Pan with their Aunt Mary.

I try to enjoy my Chicken Françoise and glass of Pinot Grigio. I attempt to make a phone call home, but my husband stops me. He says he called while I was in the ladies room and that everything is fine. But I can’t seem to help myself. In the middle of the comedy show I sneak off to use the bathroom. I call the house twice, no answer. What kind of twenty-something doesn’t charge her cell phone when she’s babysitting my children? I call the house line two more times, and that’s enough for me. I rush back to our seats in the theater.

“We’re leaving,” I command.

“Oh, come one. Everything’s fine,” my husband responds.

“No, it’s not. I just tried to call the house four times and there’s no answer. If you want to stay, then fine. But I’m going home.”

“Alright, I’m not letting you leave without me. Let’s go get the car.”

This may seem irrational or paranoid, but there’s something about a mother’s intuition – it’s the strongest gut feeling you’ll ever feel. I may not have been the greatest mother since Charlie was born, but I finally have my emotional and mental feet back on the ground. I’m not letting some stranger allow something bad to happen to my kids.

We get home and the sitter’s car isn’t there. I burst into the house and I see toys, half-eaten dinner and no children or note. I call my mother. I call the police. And no sooner am I out the door searching the streets for 11month old Charlie and 4 year old Stephen.

An hour goes by and it’s the longest hour of my life. I should be crying, or yelling, or something – anything. But my determination isn’t letting me do anything but keep a straight face. I feel numb. They could be anywhere. By now it’s 8:30p.m. The sun set at about 7:15 p.m. It’s too late to be at the park, but I check anyway. I see the sitter’s car at the elementary school playground. I barely have time to park the car before I jump out and begin calling for Charlie and Stephen. I hear nothing but the soft swaying of the trees and the creaky empty swings. Suddenly, my cell phone rings and I get chills. It’s the police department – I am terrified to hear what they have to say. It only rings a half of a ring before I answer it.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Ma’am? Mrs. Brown? We found your children, they’re down at the station.”

Thank God.

“Are they alright? How are they?” I don’t wait for an answer. “I’m on my way.” Click.

As I leap out of the car and run through the doors of the police station, I can’t control my body. My breathing is quick and I can’t seem to make it through the doors quick enough. The guard asks me, “Name, please?”

“Brown! My boys are in there! Get out of my way!”

“The moment I see them, I burst into uncontrollable tears. Stephen runs toward me, and I embrace him tightly.

“Mommy, I’m okay! Don’t cry,” says Stephen, attempting to comfort me.

And as I lift up Stephen and go to take Charlie in my arms, I see that the babysitter isn’t the one holding him. It’s Mary. My babies’ Aunt Mary is their savior and my hero. I cry even harder now, not knowing what to say.

“The boys are fine, everything is okay,” she says to me softly as she begins to cry.

I can’t help myself, but I put the boys down, giving Charlie to my husband and hug Mary as we both cry.

“How did you?...Where did you?” I begin to ask.

“Auntie’s intuition,” Mary interrupts.

We both find a way to laugh gently.

“Your mom called me,” she says. “I found them walking by the 7-Eleven. That idiot sitter of yours is mortified.”

“Well she better be, wait until I give her a piece of my….”

“Wait,” Mary tries to explain, “Her cell phone wasn’t charged. Yes, dumb. But she was just trying to play with the kids at the park. Then her car wouldn’t start. Dumb, also. But give her a break. Also, I already screamed at her and made her feel like dirt.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I say as I hug Stephen and Charlie tightly again.

“Maybe you could say that we could go back to your house and have some coffee. Also, next time you go out I think I know the name of an awesome babysitter that rules at Candyland.”

She smiles at me and we all go home. My husband takes the babysitter home, while Mary and I tuck the boys into bed. I can’t bring myself to leave them, so I sit in the hallway listening to them fall asleep. Mary brings up two cups of tea and we sit there for hours.

I never had to find a new babysitter again, and my boys got to grow up with their Aunt Mary by their side.