• the one about Bella

    We were all ready to leave for our week long vacation in South Carolina. The car was packed, loaded down with all of the essentials– swimsuits, sunscreen, clothes, shoes, diapers, wine, etc, but one question stopped our car from leaving and held us up for nearly an extra hour.

    “Where’s Baby Bella?”

    As our 3 year old asked us this, a myriad of thoughts entered my brain.

    Where’sBabyBella?Shit.Idon’tknow.Inherbed?Inthebag?IknowIdidn’tpackheralready.Inthebathroom?Inourbedroom?Lostoutsideinthebushes?Ihavenoclue.

    We turned the house upside down for many minutes, looking for a small, pink, stuffed cat. Baby Bella and Noelle had been best friends since the day Noelle was born (Baby Bella was a gift from the hospital gift shop via Nona Boo i.e. Luke’s mom). We have taken Baby Bella on practically every vacation, errand, and adventure, and not a night goes by that Noelle doesn’t sleep with her. Noelle rubs her nose with Baby Bella’s tail until she falls fast asleep. It’s the sweetest thing, really. Baby Bella has been seen in nearly all of our professional family photographs (you pick your battles). We knew there was no chance we could make it a week out of state without this kitty with us. Yes, I said, we. Luke and I were just as torn up about it as Noelle.

    After we had spent too long looking for Baby Bella with no success, we decided we had to get going. An 8 hour car ride to our first destination awaited us, and we were already getting a late start. We said a little prayer that Baby Bella would turn up, but Luke and I exchanged worried glances that perhaps she was gone forever.

    “I saw Noelle carrying her outside while she was picking flowers. She may be in the tall grass.”

    “I know I didn’t pack her up. I wouldn’t have missed that.”

    We played out various scenarios but tried to forget about it. We didn’t want to dwell upon not having her for Noelle’s sake.

    We drove several hours and ended up sleeping at a Knoxville hotel for the night. Night one without Baby Bella. Thank goodness Noelle was pretty tired and didn’t give it too much thought.

    The next morning, we opened our bags to get dressed for another day of traveling, and lo and behold, there. she. WAS! Baby Bella had snuck her way into Noelle’s bag (I really have no idea how this happened), and she was with us all along! We all rejoiced, and Luke and I caught ourselves almost a little more excited than Noelle was.

    After many more hours of travel, we finally made it to our vacation destination and began a fun-filled trip with Luke’s family. Our condo consisted of six children ages six and under, and everything was rainbow smiles and fairy farts until…

    …we lost Baby Bella again after the 2nd night. This time, we really lost her. It’s one thing to lose a stuffed animal inside your own home or even your own hometown. There are limited places where the thing could be. However, this was not our hometown. This was a place that had an ocean…an effin’ ocean…that the kitty could be swimming in. We had six kids around us at all times. It would be nothing for another kiddo to run off with her and hide her. The condo had two stories, three bedrooms, and many unfamiliar nooks and crannies to hide a small pink cat. Not to mention, we had restaurants, unfamiliar grocery stores, a new church, bike trails, and a swimming pool that would all make wonderful places to lose a beloved stuffed animal that your child has had since birth. SINCE BIRTH.

    Each night, Noelle would ask before she drifted off to sleep, “Are we gonna find that ol’ Bella?” I would reassure her that we would in fact find her. However, as the days went on, reality was setting in that we may have to leave without her, and we would never see her again. This thought seriously depressed me. Luke and I would whisper, “What are we going to do without her?”

    We looked in every place we could think of. We even called the lost and found of the whole resort. Under couch cushions. Under beds. In suitcases. In the bushes. No luck.

    On the last night of the trip, as I was taking a shower, I said a prayer to Saint Anthony, which is who you pray to when you lose something. In my whole-hearted intention, I prayed that my little girl would be reunited with her #1 beloved stuffed animal, some way, somehow.

    After my shower, I wanted a glass of ice water, so I opened the freezer to get some cubes. There she was. In the freezer. Baby Bella. Looking smug.

    “What the….?!”

    I pull her out, hold her by the neck, and catch my sister in law snickering as she went up the stairs.

    “She wasn’t in here the whole time! I know it!”

    Liz was disappointed I had found her so quickly, but I was right. Baby Bella was not in the freezer the entire time. Liz had planted her there as a way to humorously grant our reunion wish. The reality was that Baby Bella had been found inside Liz’s family’s bike trailer. We had used it at the beginning of the week before we received our own rented bikes to take the girls to the beach. Apparently, Noelle had stuffed Baby Bella down beneath the seat of the trailer and forgotten about her. Since that day, the bike trailer had been used by the other children, had been rained on, had been at the beach multiple times, and there she had been the entire time.

    I placed her back in the freezer and brought Noelle in, telling her I had a present for her in the freezer. When she opened the door and saw her oldest friend, she reacted in a way I wasn’t expecting. I fully expected a toddler-ific squeal, maybe a fist pump, but for sure a giggle or two. Instead, she whispered, “Bella,” grabbed her quickly, and nuzzled her into her neck for an eyes-closed, nearly tear-filled, embrace. Perhaps the way a mother embraces her child after many days apart.

    The remaining 24 hours of our trip, Bella wasn’t far from our sights. We felt so relieved that the little pink nugget would be making the trip back with us, after a much needed bath in the washing machine, of course. A week outside in the elements left her smelling like a dead oyster. Nonetheless, everything was as it should be, and our entire family, Bella and all, would be making the trip home, together.

    Bella became a topic of nightly discussion, and Luke’s brother, Seth, asked us once, “Were you guys thinking she would have her forever?”

    No, we weren’t. We just weren’t ready for her to be without her yet. Over the week, I spent some time thinking about why I was so torn up over a stuffed kitty that I could probably buy a replica of on Amazon for $20. I suppose it comes down to this. Bella represents Noelle as a baby and young toddler. She represents the innocence of a young girl, an innocence that will undoubtedly be lost far too soon once Noelle realizes that parts of this world are cruel, selfish, and downright evil. It won’t always be acceptable to drag around a stuffed animal, but for now it is, and I am told that this phase is one of the best phases of parenthood. She loves Bella, and she believes Bella loves her back. She believes, period. She believes in Santa and Cinderella and Princess Grizelda of Mumlumplop (a story Luke told her as a nonsensical joke that has now turned into an epic bedtime saga). She’s young. Bella keeps her young, and for that, I want to keep Bella around forever. Someday, Bella will go into a box somewhere, Toy Story 3 style, and I will have the memories.

    Welcome back, Baby Bella. You were missed…by us all.

  • the one about walking away

    What a difference a day makes.

    I distinctly remember the day when I decided that this would be my last year of teaching for a while. It was 6:45 in the morning, and I was dropping Noelle off at daycare. I walked her into the room, and I was excited for her because I saw that the teacher had the Play-Doh out. Play-Doh is kind of a luxury at our house because I don’t really like colorful, dried, crusty crap all over my floor.

    Anyway– the Play-Doh was out, and I said to Noelle, “Look! You get to play with Play-Doh!” The teacher then smiled and looked up from what she was doing and said, “No, actually, I am having the kids clean the dried up Play-Doh out of the utensils.”

    Oh, neat.

    Now, I’m not saying this activity was inappropriate or abusive or traumatizing. I’m sure it was highly necessary. Remember, I don’t like the dried, crusty crap either. However, the anguish of walking out of that room, leaving my daughter there to essentially de-boogerize Play-Doh utensils while I went to work felt like I may as well have let her stand outside in a blizzard in her swimsuit. It felt that…wrong.

    I spent that entire school day thinking about the possibility of staying home with the girls next year. For whatever reason, I grew just the tiniest pair of man parts and wrote an email to my principal that day, asking for a meeting to discuss something important to me. He was down in my room within the hour.

    I couldn’t believe that I was actually discussing this out loud. What had come over me? All my life, I have tried to do what I thought was right…what I thought everyone would agree with…what I thought was the most acceptable and appropriate…and that has really worked for me. I have achieved a lot…haven’t been to jail…I have felt success. However, I have aways been afraid to just take a leap of faith and risk making the wrong decision. There I was…taking this risk…and it felt so liberating.

    The fact that I had the courage to write that initial email pretty much told me that my mind was set. I was choosing to resign at the end of this school year. I was choosing to say goodbye to the job I was absolutely obsessed with getting. I was choosing to take a risk and accept that this may be a huge mistake, but I had to give it a try.

    I have felt very supported by friends, family, coworkers, and even people I don’t know very well. Everyone has told me that I will not regret this…that I can always go back…that the girls are only little once.

    I know all of this to be true, but turning my back on my classroom tomorrow as I hand over the keys and pack up the last 6 years of my life will be extremely difficult. I never took this decision lightly, and I spent many nights going back and forth with myself. In many ways, I loved being a working mom. It felt powerful. However, I am at peace with this choice, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for my family. I know that this is not for everyone, and if you can make it work, Gurl make it werk.

    I think my final thoughts can be summarized in two words.

    I tried.

    I tried to be a kick ass teacher and a hands-on mom at the same time. I tried to get up early and workout (once) so that I didn’t have to waste precious evening hours at the gym. I tried to plan meals ahead of time so we wouldn’t  be faced with the question of “what are we eating for dinner?” at 7 o’clock each night. I tried to cram in a week’s worth of fun into a weekend to make up for all I missed. I tried to read professional books as well as fairy tales and Bible stories and SkippyJonJones. I tried to give everything to my school kids, but I realized the hard way that I can’t do that and give everything to my kids, my own kids, at the same time. I tried to do it all, save it all, be it all, and I couldn’t. I tried to be working woman, wonder woman, super woman, and I couldn’t.

    Some may call it failure. Some may call it stupidity what I did, leaving a job when there are plenty of people out there looking for one. Some may call it weakness.

    I call it “twenty seconds of insane courage, and I promise something good will come of it.” – We Bought a Zoo.