I’ve never claimed to be an ideal human being. I overeat junk food and enjoy the (more than) occasional bottle of wine at 3 p.m. Work takes up a pretty big chunk of my life, and, honestly, I like it like that. I could and often do spend countless hours a week at my desk uncovering the deeply hidden code on becoming a writer.

Still haven’t figured that one out yet.

I’m telling you this because I want you to know the extent of my dirtbaggery before telling this story. That way, it might not come as so much of a shock as you read. I’m doing this for you, so please, be grateful.

When my children were wee ones, Jamie and I were pretty wee ourselves. We had our children young. We were both working entry-level jobs, and, at that time in our lives, we were still surrounded by our high school friends daily.

After a long week of work, we’d often invite those friends over to our place (the only house out of our friend group with a clean toilet and spare beds for those needing to sleep it off) for bonfires and beers.

Okay, I admit, regularly partying with small kids in tow might not have been the greatest idea. But my kids have turned out great so far. I just had their grade 6, and 7 parent-teacher interviews and their teachers LOVE them. Maybe all teachers say this to eager parents, but I think I saw something unique glimmer in those teachers’ eyes. My kids indeed are something special.

I’m telling you this because I need you to know that I deeply love and care for my babes. They are well taken care of, and all their needs and most of their wants are fulfilled.

The night in question, we were having a backyard bonfire. At the time, my sister-in-law, Ashley was preggers and large AF. I’m sure she’d like me to reiterate that she was pregnant. Very pregnant.

Ashley has always refused to sleep in beds. I’m not sure why this is, but ever since we were young children ourselves, my best friend and now sister-in-law has forever chosen a comfy couch for slumbering over a secluded bed. I think she just feels more comfortable around the action of the house — rather than tucked away in a dark room.

So after a while of sitting out at the fire and listening to our drunk asses ramble on about how we would one day save the world, she let me know she was retiring for the night. I followed her inside to check on the kids. Both were sleeping soundly in their rooms.

That’s another good thing about partying while you have small children in the house. They become such deep sleepers — my kids can sleep through anything.

I double-checked the front door, making sure the deadbolt and handle were locked. Ashley cuddled herself up on the couch beside the entryway and turned on the TV. The only other door to the inside of the house was in the backyard, where the rest of us were fireside.

Good stuff. Kids good. Sis good. I could have fun.

Half an hour later, I made my way inside to fill my drink and check on the babes. Lars was still sleeping in the creepy arms-straight-down-his-sides-and-not-moving-a-muscle sort of way he sleeps. Sophie was —

Gone!

I kept my breathing steady and checked her usual haunts.

• My bed, where she liked to relax and watch Blue’s Clues. Nope.
• In my on-suite bathroom, where she enjoyed the calming business of dropping small objects down the laundry shoot to hear them “plunk” on the washing machine lid below. Not there either.
• Her brother’s room, where she reveled in torturing Lars with endless inane questions. Nowhere to be found.

The panic began to creep in.

I took a glance throughout the kitchen and living room. The basement. All was quiet on the home front…front? I was trying something there — did not work.

“Jamie!” I screamed from the deck, and all ten of our friends went deadly quiet. There was a definite panic in my voice. “I can’t find Sophie!”

Jamie was on the deck beside me within seconds. He, too, began to check Sophie’s favourite spots. Soon the entire party was scouring the house for Sophie. We were double-checking windows to make sure no one had broken in. The door was still locked tight.

Dustin, my brother, said, “Do…do you think that aliens abducted her?” trying to lighten the mood.

In the logical part of my brain, I understood this was supposed to be a joke to lessen the ever-mounting panic rising in my gut. Still, because of everything that had transpired in the last 2 minutes, I truly believed that an alien abduction might have been a real possibility.

“Oh my god!” I yelled. It was my motherly losing-my-mind scream that woke Ashley up out of her deep couch slumber. Jamie quickly updated Ash on what was happening, and she got up off the low sofa as fast as her bulging belly would allow.

“There’s no other explanation,” Jamie said, the terror creeping into his voice too. No one could have gotten in or out of the house without us seeing. “This makes no sense.”

The tears of “how did I let this happen” were threatening to undo me. I thought of my sweet three year old, locked up on a cold and sterile alien spaceship, wondering what the fuck is happening and the image was almost too much to bear. The thought of her tiny fingers reaching out to her new Martian mama was godawful.

That’s when Ashley started laughing, saying, “She’s right here, you guys.”

Sophie has always loved my sister-in-law more than me.

Even to this day, she looks up to Ashley with eyes only for her.

When Ash had cuddled up on the couch and fell almost immediately to sleep, Soph had shuffled out of her room, found Aunty sleeping there, crawled under a pile of blankets and pillows on the end of the couch and fell dormant. She just wanted to be close to Aunty Ash.

I am not proud of this story in the slightest. I still feel awful and grateful and shamed that it all happened the way it did. I can tell you that after this experience, we made sure to keep a closer eye on the kids at all times. We purchased one of those video baby monitors that I never looked at because I was scared I’d see a ghost in the thing. If we were going to party, Lars and Sophie (most of the time) would stay at their grandparent’s house.

I’m not a perfect parent. I’m certainly not a ideal human being. But as I get older, I continue to work hard to become the best version of myself for my kids. And as an added benefit, Sophie asks me at least every few months to tell me about that one time she was abducted by aliens when she was but a young babe.

And because storytelling is the one thing I can do well, I make us some tea, cuddle up on the couch, and we tuck into a great tale.

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This post was previously published on A Parent Is Born.

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