So you know how you’re sitting in church

A little breathless because even though your son woke up at 7am yesterday and took only an hour nap and didn’t fall asleep until 10pm he was still awake at 7:15am

But you still had to make copies at church of the MOPS newsletter and while in your mind it should take just a flash to make 70 copies it takes a substantial while longer

And your hands smell faintly of lotion and Simple Green

Because while you left for church early because you had to make copies and you’ve been up since 7am, you walked out to find your child strapped in his seat and your husband making a scrunchy face and all of a sudden the car looks a little more America’s Next Top Model than you’re used to

Because some kids decided in the middle of the night to decorate your car with lipstick and lotion, writing out things such as “look at your car” and “haha” and “lol” and drawing lips

And you think, “Well, yes: I am looking at my car. Thank you so much for drawing my attention to it: truly, it must be neglected, how kind and thoughtful of you to point it out”

And a cop pulls up to let you know that you’re the sixth house on the street that’s been visited by the “Lotion and Lips” fairies, except other cars got condiments such as ketchup, mustard, and oatmeal; and then proceeds to let you know that it shouldn’t damage your car (physically, that is: our poor masculine car will have to attend a Journey to Wholeness I’m sure to get over the shame of being girlyfied) but that it’s going to take a while to get off

And so you get your bottle of Simple Green purchased by your mother when she cleaned your apartment when you moved to your house because nobody knows how to clean like the Mama, and if it works for her, it will work for our car

So you’re sitting in church listening to your pastor/friend talk about how Jesus People practice Sexual Integrity and you see your fellow Quakes retreating further and further into their Internal Fortress of Solitude

Then you hear a noise

A toddler noise

A noise that sounds familiar

A noise that sounds like your toddler

But you smile, noting how he’s safely squirreled away in the 2′s classroom (which is different that the 2′s classroom that he frequents on Wednesdays which now has matching baby gates for it’s front and back doors)

And so you pretend to pay attention to the sermon, wondering if there’s going to be any references to how horrible “Sex in the City” is

And then you hear the noise again: a “DAH!” that is near and dear to your heart

And you remember that the upstairs 2′s class has an unlocked back door just like the downstairs class, but you think, “I couldn’t *possibly* be hearing my son from the balcony down to the main floor across the room through the closed doors and down to the end of the hall. No, I’m just being paranoid”

But you forget: mothers of the JJ are never paranoid – they are to be as boy scout: be prepared

So you go back to the prayer time, wondering if there’s a couple downstairs with a toddler who’s running around and can’t handle being in the classroom or is there early before the next service: that’s got to be it

But then the last “DAH DAH DAH!” wafts up, and you lean over to your husband, and you say, “That’s JJ”, and he nods in agreement

And your heart starts thumping and your feet start twitching and as soon as the prayer is over you say “Quickly quickly!” to your Hubby and bolt through the door and down the stairs and through the sanctuary, dodging old people left and right, ignoring well-wishers, flinging open the doors, scuttling down the hall, around the right, down another hall, and to the nursery check in place

And your friend is standing there, and you say, “Did JJ escape?” and she laughs and say, “I don’t think so” and goes back to get him

And you think of how silly you were

Or at least if he did escape that he’s back in the nursery

But then she doesn’t come out

And doesn’t come out

And then finally comes out . . . with another baby whose mother is waiting with us

And we look up at the tv monitors and point out little moving creatures who we think might be JJ but we’re not sure

And then someone comes out and says, “We’re looking for him”

And you wonder: there’s only two rooms – how much looking can you do?

And you know in your mothergut: he’s not in there

So you laugh, because when you’re scared, you laugh: just like when you rode Deja Vu at Six Flags and your brother kept yelling “Good Color Scheme! Good Color Scheme!” and you laughed and laughed and laughed partly because of him, and partly because the straps weren’t tight enough and you thought it wouldn’t take all that much just to wiggle out of them

Thus begins the search as people are coming up the stairs and in the halls and into the nursery area and out of classrooms and all OVER the place
And a person mentions, “Oh, a person is holding a little boy at the bottom of the stairs”

Lo and behold it’s your friend/adopted brother Nate who says he found JJ wandering the hall, getting ready to go down the stairs and out the door, so Nate thought he could use a companion for a little bit

So you go back to the nursery to tell them that you found him, and the poor person who was looking after the two’s (there’s a LOT of them) profusely apologizes, and of course JJ would have to run out on this particular friend, because the other week this friend’s son wandered away from her while she was at her in-laws and went across the street to the church because he needed to go to Sunday School: according to him, the story went as follows: “I went to Sunday School. I met a nice lady (my friend Jo who works at the church). My mommy cried.”

And so of course JJ would have to escape with her who has had such a scary similar experience so recently so that it would really freak her out

And you begin to wonder if they make LoJacks for toddlers, and do you really have to wait until Christmas to ask someone to buy you one

You know how that is? Or is it just me?

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings