Today has been a mentally exhausting day.

To say the LEAST. For a few minutes today I DIED. I FREAKING DIED. MY HEART STOPPED, my life flashed before my eyes and the world as I knew it was over. What happened, you ask? Well thank you for asking, let me regale you with today's event.

We live in a stupid apartment complex with no place for the kids to play. I'm a paranoid mother thinking that everyone is out to steal my kids or harm them in some way, so I want them to play within my view. I allowed for them to ride their bikes on the sidewalk in front of our apartment. They rode for a while and then the two girls parked their bikes next to the window and came inside to play on the computer. I didn't see J come inside, maybe I was in the kitchen - I'm not sure. But when I didn't see his bike parked next to the others I figured he'd strayed behind the complex. I have specifically told him NOT to leave the front of the apartment, so I was gearing my mom-self to scold the little punk.

I walk outside with NO SHOES ON (I like being barefooted) and kinda rush around the complex trying to spot the kid. The concrete was freaking HOTT. With a double T. I didn't find him, so I panicked a little but came inside to put some shoes on and look for him on the other side. I went to the other side and didn't spot him either. At this point PANIC has set in full blast and my heart has stopped. I start walking back to the apartment when I spot his bike next to another apartment door. Being the paranoid mother that I am, I start SCREAMING out his name on top of my lungs - my throat still hurts - and banging on the door where his bike is. I'm so freaking hysterical I start banging on a couple of doors trying to see if my kid is in one of these places and ready to murder whoever lured him in. I'm running up and down the sidewalk screaming his name when a little voice of LOGIC told me to check inside the damn apartment.I came to the door and holler for him and he answers. He comes to the door and I've never been so happy to see the little punk. My heart starts working again and all these emotions surface and next thing I know I'm in tears. I tell the little punk to go get his bike from where he left it and plop myself down to recover.

One concerned neighbor asked what was going on and was about to go off looking for J when I FOUND him. Of course, I call DH to tell him of my HORRIFIC ordeal, and he only laughs. In retrospect, I did look like some kind of psycho by screaming and banging and running around like crazy. I feel bad for banging on people's doors like a maniac... I think I woke them up. Eeesh.

Kids want to ride their bikes again... I'm gonna go watch them like a hawk.