Sweating Soccer Mom

So today I really fell off the deep end. Boy #2 had a soccer game and I had to help Mr. Minivan with some work stuff. I asked the mom of one of his teammates (who is also one of his classmates) if she could give him a ride home. This other mom, who is a lovely lady, by the way, said it was no problem. The game was scheduled from 3 to 4 and is no more than 10 minutes away from our house. I did my work and sent a few emails and then glanced at my watch. 4:32!! I started to wonder where he was. I realized I did not have this mom's cell phone number and called her home number, hoping she would not answer, hoping that maybe her outgoing message would contain her cell number, or that a helpful husband or child would answer and give me the number. No answer. Then I remembered that a friend of mine worked with her and might have her number.

I called my friend and she did have the number. I then proceeded to leave two slightly panicked messages on the cell phone, which, of course, went straight to voice mail! "Hi, I was just calling to see where you are. It's after 4:30 and I'm getting a little worried." By this time my imagination had gone into overdrive and I pictured myself arriving at the soccer field and finding....no one. I grabbed my car keys and left Boy #1 at home with the portable phone in his hand, instructing him to call me immediately when (if?) Boy #2 arrived. I ran out the door and started to drive to the soccer field. Time now is 4:45. I am crazed. I drive up the highway, looking at both the road ahead of me and the cars traveling the opposite direction on the other side. I think I see her car, but I'm not sure. Could be an illusion. I call home and tell Boy #1 to go downstairs and open the garage door and stand in the garage with the phone. "He's home, Mom. I just heard the garage door open," he says. I breathe a sigh of relief and head for home. The demons and dangers lurking in my imagination, in every mom's imagination, have receded. I pull into the garage, go into the kitchen, and see a flushed and tired Boy #2 drinking a Frostee. "How was the game?" I asked. "Why were you so late?" "The game ran a little late and we stopped at Wendy's," he answered, happily slurping.

I called the other mother and told her to disregard the messages on her cell. "I just got myself a little worked up," I told her, "I should have gotten your cell phone number." I could tell she was a little offended. We had been in parallel Mom Universes--me trying to make sure my boy was safe, and she getting the soccer players an icy treat. We were both being good moms, each caught up in our own moment in time.

I know one thing, though, in the future I'll get a cell phone number and make sure the phone is ON.