Love looks high and low.

I performed a minor mommy miracle this week. Bee baby lost her bear. No, not just any bear – Bear. Bear. Bear, with whom she has slept every night since she was born. Bear, who she will wake me up to help her find in the middle of the night. Bear, whom she cries for and clings to desperately in the morning when I make her wake up and get dressed. That bear went missing on Sunday night and we could find neither hide nor hair of him.

I knew she had been playing with him on Sunday. I know because she told me he was crying and that he wanted his grandmother – and that was supposedly me. I distinctly remember putting Bear on the 2nd floor of Barbie’s townhouse. Later, Bee moved him into the house she made for herself in the corner using the town house, the baby carriage, and the doors to the computer desk as walls to her “fort.” And that was the last I saw of Bear. To be honest, I didn’t even think about him again. Until Sunday night.

Sunday night. Bedtime. The girls were running around yelling, screaming, crying. It was lawlessness and chaos. I was chasing after them, trying to get them to brush their teeth and get pajamafied so I could have a moment’s peace before I lost my cool and my mommy license altogether. I was just minutes away from achieving my goal. Bee was in bed. Gracie was changing into her jammies and was next in line. That was when Bee noticed. And asked for Bear.

You have to understand – the girls had pretty much trashed the house earlier in the day. I knew that coming back to Mom’s house after two week’s of a much more “relaxed” atmosphere at Dad’s house would catch up with them. Apparently that day was Sunday. The beds had been stripped and blankets piled in the middle of the room. Toys had been pulled out in the front room and some haphazardly and hurriedly shoved back into the toy box when I threatened to withhold going to church with Grandma. There were a million places Bear could have traveled. We searched through them all. Well. Okay. We searched through most of them before I lost my cool and told Bee that since she didn’t pick up her toys and couldn’t listen to Mommy all day, that was what happened. Yes, I did. I failed. It was a horrible mommy moment and a tough lesson to learn, all rolled into one. That was Day 1 Without Bear.

On Monday, I felt badly about my behavior. The girls are just girls; they’re just learning.  I should know better. I remember what it was like being forced to go to sleep as a child without my stuffed animal. (I also know what happened because my mom let things slide, but that’s an entirely different story.) So I looked and looked and looked for Bear. I checked in the toybox and the baby cradle, the carriage and the play-oven. I checked behind shelves and under couches and in suitcases and buckets. I checked behind beds and under beds and behind dressers in the girls’ bedroom. I checked the pantry and my bedroom, my closet and everywhere else I could imagine. Not a single room, nook, or cranny went unsearched. Bee had mentioned that Bear was in the trash the night before…but she was crying and being defeatist and surely she didn’t mean it. I had one more day until trash day. If Bear hadn’t been found…I would sift through the stupid trashcan before I emptied the trash. If it was any other stuffed animal… But it was Bear. Sigh. Being a mommy is hard sometimes.

The girls got back from dinner with their dad much later than usual on Monday night. And then my Insignificant Other arrived shortly after that. Amongst all the giggling and craziness and weariness (the last one being my own),  I herded my girlies into their jammies and into bed, somehow convincing Bee that she could sleep with her new stuffed dog instead of Bear. I quizzed her down one last time. Nothing. She couldn’t remember where Bear was. I gave one last round of quizzes and – on a whim – opened the drawers to Bee’s dresser. In the fourth drawer, the one right at Bee’s eye-level, was Bear, all quiet and innocent looking. I have never been so happy to see a stuffed animal in all my life.

The moral of the story, so typical of Casa de Katie: Love might lose its cool from time to time, but it never, ever gives up. Love keeps looking for what’s important and always will. Happy Love Thursday, everyone.

Tags: bedtime rituals, Love Thursday, parenting