4.28.2006

It's A Code Yellow World


Aside from the moment of birth, the first best thing to happen to me as a mom was at church one Sunday as I rocked my baby in the hallway so as to avoid disrupting the services. I passed one of the young moms of our congregation as she “doodled” her third child and I cradled my first. “Hi,” she said to me, as I lilted slowly past. “So how do you like being a mom?” I think I said what you are supposed to say when you are holding a new bundle of joy. To which Kim smiled knowingly and said, “It gets a little lonely sometimes, doesn’t it?” I think I nodded and we each took our babies in our own direction, but her question answered something deep inside of me. I had tried to pin everything I felt in those first few weeks – including guilt that I didn’t consider this the thrill of a lifetime that everyone talks about – on lack of sleep, hormones, or engorgement, and then Kim actually nailed it: “Grandma” had gone home, “Dad” had gone back to work, the friends dropping by with tiny baseball uniforms, chocolate and dinners had dwindled, and I, “Mom” had to fend for myself. I am by nature more introvert than extravert, but it was the seeming isolation that was wearing on me as I jumped onto the learning curve of the most important job of my life. How rejuvenating to have someone else – someone I admired as a great, hands-on mom – ask, to admit, hey, this momming thing is lonely, isn’t it? Crazy that we all feel it from time to time, when we’re really all in it together.

Let me just preface the following story by declaring that I’d gladly have ten pregnancies and ten med-free births if I didn't ever have to go through the first twelve months after a baby is born. Maybe that is a little extreme, because there are all those precious "firsts," but pregnancy and birth is infinitely better for me than what I refer to as the 12-month (sometimes 18-month) Postpartum Stupor. I like to think I am not alone in this, and maybe the hormones just slam me extra hard, but wow – those twelve months, both times around, have knocked me on my butt. The first six weeks or more is a fog of physical exhaustion that I never quite recovered from – interspersed, of course, with complete wonder over the tiny piece of perfection in my arms, but nonetheless a fog, with an increasing awareness of my own incompetence at grocery shopping, let alone raising a child. Plus, after my second son’s birth – and I am positive it was caused by the epidural – I had the most excruciating constant headache well into the second month of his life. “I’ll pick you up from your cradle in just a second, lovey love, as soon as I can pick my head up off my pillow and pick your brother off the kitchen counter where he’s pouring his own breakfast cereal.” The rest of the first year I spent trying to recover body perception, hormonal balance, mental clarity, emotional stability and social contacts. And running after one, then two, amazingly fast and incredibly industrious little boys who couldn’t communicate yet, all the while trying to convince myself that the feeling of being reduced from a thinking individual to nothing more than a pair of (enormous) bazooms was temporary. But that’s a whole different line of whining…All I really wanted to say is that the first twelve to eighteen months after a new baby, I am just not the well-adjusted, intelligent, capable, organized, generally laid-back and otherwise fabulously functional person that I usually am. And I hope after writing all this, that there is at least one person out there who can relate.

Here’s the relevant story:

I went in to Target one day (expect 80% of my blogs to begin with that line – I am my mother’s daughter) with my infant Henry and not-quite-two-year-old Calvin. Just had a couple of items to grab and then get home to feed the babe. Calvin decided that he really needed to get out of the cart to see the big bin of playground balls up close, and since his vehement requests to “touch! ball!” were about to wake Henry before my Target time was up, and because of the aforementioned Postpartum Stupor (hereafter referred to as PPS), I let him get out. After all, the ball bin was within sight, only three or four yards away from where I was picking out onesies. Calvin went over and started punching the bottom balls in the bin to make the top ones bounce. Henry started to fuss, and I couldn’t find the right size of undershirts, then I looked up, and Calvin wasn’t at the ball bin anymore.

I pushed the cart down two or three aisles to the right of the ball bin, calling Calvin’s name, sure that he would start giggling and I could catch him a wrangle him back into the cart. (“Run Away and Giggle” was his favorite game at the time.) Nope. I wheeled the cart two or three aisles to the left of the balls, calling a little louder. Henry started crying a little louder. No giggle, no answer. It seemed a very, very long time since I had actually SEEN Calvin, I started sweating like a pig, and I asked a lady nearby if she had seen a little boy. Her answer was a blur as I started looking frantically for a Target employee and actually felt like I was in the middle of my own Sophie’s Choice drama – do I leave the shopping cart with my one baby in it so I can look faster for the other one?

Just then, a redshirted assistant manager strolled out of the swinging warehouse doors at the back of the toy aisle and I – this tells you what state I was in after a mere two minutes – I was crying before I could even say, “I’ve lost my little boy.” I can laugh now, but I can’t even tell you all the scenarios my panicked little sleep-deprived brain had come up with for the disappearance of my son…

Then the Target Man took it into his own hands, asked me a few questions about Cal’s height and age and what he was wearing (can you believe – I couldn’t even remember that for a second!) and he radioed the info to his fellow employees. Within a split second, an intercom announcement blared: “Attention, Target Team Members, we have a Code Yellow. Please take your positions. Again: A Code Yellow. Please go to your stations.” Suddenly, there were red-shirted Target Team Members everywhere. If there was ever a scene that epitomized “crawling out of the woodwork”, this was it. It was as if the shelves of merchandise actually morphed into redshirted child-finders. I am not even joking, there were so many of them. One or two of them joined my first Target Man, patting my back, talking goo goo and trying to shush Henry (who had some serious milk coming in for him), and telling me, “It’s OK, ma’am, we’ll find him. I know, it’s OK, they get away so fast. Let’s just walk up to the front of the store.”

I didn’t want to leave sight of the ball bin because I had fixed on it as the place where Calvin should have been, but as they started patting my back and walking me and my crying baby in the cart to the front, a radio call came in that they found Calvin – not slung over the shoulders of a black market child vendor trying to duck the front door surveillance cameras, but in the jewelry department. We continued to the front, where redshirts stood by all of the exits to keep anyone from leaving with my boy, and a line of them followed me. Calvin was sufficiently sobered, waiting in the arms of the jewelry counter clerk and I felt like I hadn’t seen him for ages. I grabbed him in my arms and I didn’t know what to say, to him or to the army of Code Yellow responders. Thank you? Sorry I’m such a freak and I can’t keep track of one little child? Great job on running your Code Yellow drill?

It all seems quite ridiculous now, I’m still a little embarrassed, and I really cannot believe how I went from zero to sheer, unreasoning panic in less than ninety seconds, but it actually became a defining moment for me as a mom. That day, Target Team Members came from nowhere and staved off the panic, brought me back to my senses, and caught up with my son when I couldn’t. And not more than a week later in the Target parking lot, when a “safety feature” on my car locked my keys and Calvin in while I rounded to the otehr side to buckle Henry in, and the FIRE DEPARTMENT responded to rescue the “trapped” child, I decided that I had more to learn from this than not to go to Target during PPS.

Sometimes, my life with two toddler / preschool boys seems to be one giant Code Yellow, both because they are frenetically curious and because I am, well, you know, just plain old frenetic. It is a little disconcerting that I’m only three years into it. They haven’t even started driving or dating yet. But now I believe there is always any number of Team Members – fellow moms, perfect strangers – waiting to morph into existence and help me keep it together. Call it my take on the village raising a child thing. All I know is that it’s a true phenomenon, and we all figuratively get to take our turn patting some mom’s back or needing someone to radio reinforcements for us. Other than the pure joy of watching an actual human being come into existence and having him call me – imperfect, impatient, impetuous me – his Mom, the greatest gift of parenthood is finding that it is a universal experience, rich in opportunity to connect with each other, overflowing with chances to give and receive support and strength even in our craziest moments. All we have to do is 1) stop playing “perfect” and admit that we have those moments and 2) realize that admitting it doesn’t mean we are inept or that we hate our children. And so I blog.

I saw my friend Kim again last week. We’ve each had one more child since that day three years ago at church. I smiled and waved and asked, “How are you doing?” She smiled back and said with a laugh, “As well as I can be with four kids in Target.” I laughed and nodded toward Calvin poking the back of Henry’s head as Henry Houdinied out of the seatbelt, screaming at Calvin. As we headed for the parking lot, I added Kim to my comforting mental list of red shirts.

One side note: as soon as Calvin knew his colors, he chose yellow as his favorite, and has never changed his mind.

15 comments:

Angela said...

Holy moly what a terrifying experience. PPS or no, that is terrifying. Let's hope Calvin continues to find his way to the jewelry counter when he's older and makes his own money and wants to thank you for all the panic and fatigue he caused you. :)
Also, "[Henry](who had some serious milk coming in for him)," Made me laugh right out loud.
God bless the red shirts, that makes me want to shop ONLY at Target. So glad you are blogging!

kpjara said...

I was scared senseless! I think it does show what an incredible mom you are that you WERE worried! It also gives me great reassurance that there is a "Code Yellow" and it works!

Found you through Morning GLory and she's right...you are a gifted writer and storyteller! I'm looking forward to working my way forward in your story!

Everyday Mommy said...

This story has me hooked on your blog! You're going onto my personal blogroll. And, I'm sending a copy of this post and your link to the folks at Target. I'm impressed with you and with them. Now I know why I shop there.

mammasquiettime said...

I came here from Everyday Mommy and I LOVE you! I've so been there! Lost a 1 year old! How do you lose a 1 year old? Oh wait, I was taking care of a 4 month old and looking for a shirt for myself!

Should I mention the time that Jonathan fell from the drivers seat in the Bronco and hit his head on the concrete at Wal-Mart? Or what about the time he grabbed Emma's carseat and flung her head over heals into the buggy at the store while I have my hands in my head saying, "I'm not a bad mom. I'm not a bad mom."

I am laughing because I am sooooo with you...and their only 18 months and 6 1/2 months....I'm scared for my future!

Thanks for the laugh.

CereneOne said...

I found you through Everyday Mommy as well. She is so correct in recommending this read.

I lost my 3rd child in the Crayola Factory. I can SO relate to the Code Yellow (which is my fav color too!) I was horrified and scared and everything you would think. The staff promptly shut off each hallway and door not letting anyone move about. (It was a rainbow of colors they were wearing as you might expect from Crayola.)

Long story short. Everyone was looking for my child. My cell rings and I look to see it is my husband. He is wondering what is happening. I tell him only to find out HE HAD HER! They were standing outside the building and they would not let him inside WITH the child they were looking for!

Thank you for letting the world know about the loneliness. You are most certainly not alone in it.

Faith said...

This is awesome! Not the losing the kid part, of course, but the whole story! I enjoyed reading it. As a mom of 5 - I do believe that I can relate!!!

Barb said...

Reading this made the hair on my arms stand up. I'm with Jules. I'm now firmly hooked on your blog. You're already in my bloglines and sidebar.

This scared the beejeebs out of me. Aside from how great the red team is and how scary the whole situation was, you're a great writer. So I'll be back!

Jen3 @ Amazing Triplets said...

I know this is an older post, but this is the first time I've read it.

Am I the only one that burst out crying mid way through?! I can feel the fear and I would have collapsed in to a heap of relief just seeing all the red shirts.

These kids. They take years off your life. As for me - I think I'm still in PPS. Although - I wonder if that will ever go away. Sometimes I find myself saying out loud - there are three of them. Dear God, there are THREE of them. I have three (almost) 2-year olds...

Susie said...

Oh, did you ever bring back an awful memory I have of losing my daughter at a Dillards. It makes me cry just thinking about it. Alls well that ends well, but I can totally relate to your honesty. You are an amazing writer and I will visit your blog again soon.

Mommy Dearest said...

Hello! This is my first visit, although I think you started the pizza meme I did this week! I understand what you mean about the "Team Members" - I have eight (yes, eight) kids of my own, and so I think there are a lot of friends, my age and older, who baby me. I have two girlfriends who took me out to dinner this week because I really needed a little "me time." Right now I have an empty house except for my two-year-old. Everyone else cleared out because we are potty-training today (I have always considered potty-training an effective method of birth control). Thank goodness she's down for her nap now. Thanks for the laughs and the mental break!

Real said...

I'm immensely enjoying reading your blog, too, and hearing such a reassuring perspective that we aren't all perfect but we can be good despite our shortcomings. I plan on coming back frequently to see what I have missed.

littlemiss said...

I found you through ordinarymom.wordpress.com and I am in love with your writing style. You should be writing for parenting magazines! As a mother of four, I thank you for this endearing story.

Deanna said...

We had our first Code Yellow at Target today! I'm not one of "those moms" that freaks out at the drop of a hat (2 boys under 5 have taught me that) but I was not prepared for the sheer panic I felt.

So glad that there are others out there who've experienced this and survived.

And boy, am I grateful to my local Target store for having such a fantastic plan in place for these types of situations.

Anonymous said...

I have never before posted on a blog of someone I didn't know. But today, one of my friends sent me the link to your blog after I posted the following on facebook:
Susan had a "code yellow" called at Target because my 2 yr old wandered off and I couldn't find her. Was scared out of my mind, but am VERY impressed with Target's responsiveness.

Was looking at curtains, and she was hiding in them and they next thing I knew she was no where to be seen. After my 5 yr old and I were calling for her for less than 2 minutes saw a young guy who worked there and told him. He immediately got on his walkie talkie and called the "code" I heard people on the walkie talkie saying they were covering the exits, etc... Was also very grateful for all the shoppers around, they were all looking with me. One of them found her in the sports apparel aisle holding an adult pair of shorts...not in the least phased. In my gut, I knew she had just wandered off and didn't sense any foul play, but since she's never been a runner, I was still terribly scared. Felt like such that bad mom, that she got out of my sight. No more getting out of the cart for her for a while. Thank you to all these wonderful strangers!

Of all the supportive, wonderful comments I got from friends, the link to your blog was the most comforting. In particular your comment, "the greatest gift of parenthood is finding that it is a universal experience, rich in opportunity to connect with each other, overflowing with chances to give and receive support and strength even in our craziest moments." I'm going to add it to my FB page right now!

Thank you for helping yet another imperfect mom!

Alena said...

1)I was wondering about Yellow, but not anymore.
2)When I was little I hid in a rack of clothes at Mervyn's, within view of my mother. She called the store cops. We still don't shop there.
3)This terrifies me. I know that's probably not intended, but it still does.
4)Joeli told me today that you started following my blog. My first reaction was "Wow! I feel so honored!" No sarcasm. But it was pretty funny.
5)I really love your family.

That is all.