Oh La La...Where in the world ARE you?

There are times when a mother hears the words coming out of her mouth and knows, even before those words fall into little ears, that they are words that she will regret. Sometimes the regret is so instant as to make me wonder why I didn't just stop speaking mid-sentence and play off a "silly Mom moment." A silly mom moment is my get out of jail free card. I use it often and, in times of desperation, I use it in conjunction with my other necessary tool: "Because God made it that way."

A week ago (or so) I was very excited to hear Laura had finalized plans for her March trip. I let my enthusiasm take over my mouth and told Turner. As his face lit up with glee I knew I had opened a door that I would not be able to shut again until March. Every morning, every night, every afternoon when I get him from school, everytime he is tired or hungry or cranky, every time the phone rings or I pick up the phone to call someone, every moment that there is a bit of silence when he takes a moment to turn over his rapidly moving brain Turner interjects a whiny, lip pouting out, eyes downcast, "Can we go get La La now?" I feel so guilty. I told a little boy who has no reference to time (much less the passage of a month's worth of time) that his La La is coming to visit, and in so doing I set him up for disappointment every single day that La La is not here.

This morning was the breaking point (I think Andy hit his mid-week last week). Now, let me clarify what I mean by breaking point. I am not mad at Turner for worrying me to death. Yes, it can be frustrating, but I know that this is all my fault. I knew as soon as I said "La La" that I should have stopped my mouth. No one made me finish that sentence. No one made me reveal the secret. Yet, I finished the sentence and made Turner the most disappointed (yet equally hopeful) little boy in all of Tucson. So, this morning he rolls over in bed (yes he's still coming to our bed about 6 AM every morning to breath sweetness in our face and remind us that we are loved parents). "Mommy..." he is groggy with sleep and I am freshly showered and capable of some conversation.
"Good morning Turner."
"Good morning Mommy." He rubs his eyes and sits up.
"Is La La here yet?"
"No."
"Where's my Daddy?"
"He's at work."
"No he's not."
"Yes he is."
"Why?"
"Because he has a certain time he has to be there and that time is now."
"Oh. Can we go get La La now?"
"No. La La's plane is not at the airport yet. It won't be there until March. It is still February."
"I think it is there now."
"No. I promise that La La is coming as quickly as she can."
He cries. "But I want my La La now." He throws his La La bear onto the floor and kicks his feet in the bed. I ignore him. I don't know if that is textbook or not, but I'm not really sure I'd want people rationalizing with me before 8 AM even if I've had my shower and bagel. So, we call La La and leave her a message. Then we are able to move on to oatmeal and matching socks.

Sunday or Monday (another story occurs to me), we are coming down Speedway headed home. Turner asks if we are going to the gym and I say we are tomorrow. He asks if we can ride the airplane. He tells me that girls can't drive airplanes because only boys can. I correct him. Then I ask why he wants to ride in an airplane when the gym is closer than the airport. He says because "Maybe we'll bump into La La there. She might be waiting for us."
"I promise she isn't at the airport. We just talked to her on the phone, remember?"
"Yeah, but she's waiting for us."
"No she isn't. She is so excited to see you, and she is in Nashville waiting for March to hurry up and get here."

Poor kid. March seems forever away. A bright spot, however, is the weather here. We are avid park goers again (2 hours today), and the flowers are in bloom ALL over the desert. It is really beautiful. I had no idea to expect this. La La, bring warm clothes and, please, bring them fast.