The Longest Ten Minutes Of My Life

No one prepares you for it.
I don't think there is anything one can say or do to even try to prepare for it.
The intense emotion that comes with being a parent.
Both of my children have given me great joy.
And great frustration.
I have lost my temper. I have been angry.
I have felt pride.
And I have loved them every minute of every day of their lives.

But today, I felt, for the first time, absolute fear.

There was a faint knock at my door. I opened it to see a cute little redhead girl who I immediately felt sorry for, having climbed all the way up my driveway in the rain.
"Are you 'Diva Princess's' mom?"
Yes, sweetie but she's not home from school yet.
"Is she okay?"
What...
"They can't find her."
What...?


I tell the cute little redhead good-bye as politely as I can and grab my phone to call the school.
I get the machine.
I try again.
Still the machine.
I try for ten minutes to get someone to answer the damn phone!

During this time I go from relative calm and concern to hyperventilating panic and sheer terror. This is one of those times when a vivid imagination is a curse. Where is my daughter?
There is a part of my brain that is trying to talk me down.
The school would have called if it was a real emergency.
But why aren't they answering the phone?!
It's very likely the little redhead girl was mistaken.
But why did she say THEY can't find her?!
Where the hell is my daughter?!


Tears are streaming down my face. I can barely breathe as I try again and again to call the school.
Finally, an answer.
And all composure leaves me.
WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!!!

"It's okay. We found her. She was hiding in the bathroom. She had a bathroom emergency and was too embarassed to come out of the stall. We gave her some clothes and she is on the bus on her way home."

Now I really become a blubbering mess. I thank the nice calm voice on the other line for putting up with my hysterics, hang up the phone and do my best not to pass out from lack of oxygen.
I knew, in a tiny corner of my brain, that I had probably over reacted. I knew that when Paul got home and I told him of this mixup, he would roll his eyes upward and call me a loon (which he did).  That still did not keep me from crying for the next few minutes until the bus finally pulled up in front of the house.
There she was.
I called to her.
She came up to me...and I bawled my head off as I hugged her.

And so ended the scariest moment of my life.