Yesterday I experienced sheer panic. Sick, unbelievable, confused, terrified PANIC. Jordan had managed to go through the door to the garage, out the open garage door, and out on to the street. We didn't know he was missing for a good 10 minutes. I thought he was in the loungeroom watching tv with my brother.
It wasn't until Dean got up and I asked him to check on Jordan that we realised something was wrong. He wasn't with Ben. And the door from the hallway to the garage was open. And the garage door was open. And Jordan was no where to be seen.
Dean ran straight to one end of the park across the road where the swings are, Ben ran to the other end where the ducks and the water. Mum ran down the street towards the shops. And I just stood in the middle of the road not knowing what to do. It was surreal. I felt like I was just watching it all happen from above and not knowing what to do. Mum just yelled out to run through the park. I started running. I felt like I was flying. Literally I don't even know if my feet touched the ground. After what felt like an eternity of running and thinking of all the possibilities of where he could be and what would happen if we couldn't find him, images of police helicopters circling the area, concerned neighbours watching, judging us bad parents for losing their son, I came across a couple walking their dog. I asked them if they'd seen a little boy, they said that there was a woman telling a man (Dean) that she found him and took him into her home.
That was when I really flew. I knew that my baby was fine. But I needed to see him so desperately. I could see Dean walking with this woman towards her house (just across the park) and just saw my little man running down her driveway yelling "Mamma!!!" That's when I lost it. I just burst into tears as I was running to my baby. Dean was carrying him and Jordan was none the wiser, just thinking he'd been on a fun adventure. I just held him crying and walking, and he had the most puzzled look on his face, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Turns out this (angel) woman had seen him walking down the path on his own, looking back now and then, and thankfully thought to take him inside her house and wait to see if the parents came looking for him. She was a few minutes away from calling the police when she saw Dean looking for him. Thank God for that angel woman.
It tortures me to think of all the things that could have happened to him. Cars, water, pedophiles, crazy baby snatching people, or him just simply wandering the streets, no one seeing him, and getting lost in the bush somewhere. I was so insanely mad and full of terror. When we saw Mum in the park and she saw that all was ok, I just started screaming. Dad was the one that left the door and the garage door open. As always. This has happened many times before, not Jordan wandering off, but absent minded Dad leaving all the doors open. We've lost count the amount of times we've talked to him about the door being open. And he's just laughed and said something like 'oh Jordan you could have wandered off' and laughed it off. And it's always made me mad. The laughing it off and not taking it seriously. So I was screaming to Mum, about Dad, using all the cuss words I knew, not caring that she might be offended, knowing that she would understand. And she was just as furious at him. She had called him and told him what happened, that Jordan was missing and it was his fault for leaving the door open.
I was shaking with anger and fear. I didn't know I could be that intense. So when Dad got home from his little outing in his f**king little car which he idolises, I just tore into him. I have always been terrified of Dad. He was such a strict disciplinarian when we were little that I had more fear for him than respect. Before he got home, I prayed that God would give me the strength to tell him all I needed to tell him. And God surely gave me the strength! I didn't think I'd ever be able to scream and swear at him like I did last night. He just kept saying sorry. I didn't care. It was my time to talk and scream and ask him what it would take for him to realise he can't leave doors open with children in the house. I told him all the things that could have happened to Jordan. I asked him what the f**k he was thinking. And I said thank f**k Jordan was ok. I wanted to say 'or God help me I would have killed you' but I didn't. I thought that may have taken it too far. Lucky God let me say what I NEEDED to say but kept a leash on my tongue and stopped me from saying anything more than what was necessary. This all came out of my mouth within a minute and it was over. I said what I had to, and walked back to my son to hold him. He said sorry to Dean and Dean said nothing.
Mum was so supportive. She backed up everything I said, even the swearing, and said that if I need to say it all to him again, that I should do it. Whatever it took to get it through his head. She even expected Dean to hit him as soon as he walked through the door. But Dean was very reserved, and said nothing. Which was far more effective I imagine than him saying something, as Dean always has something to say. Mum fully expected (and actually hoped) Dean to hit Dad. At the park Dean kept saying 'I'll f**king kill him, I'll f**king kill him'.
Mum was so furious. We all were. And Dad hid in his bedroom most of the evening. He didn't come out until I went to bed at 10pm. I guess he was embarrassed. And ashamed. Good. That's part of the punishment, that and the fact that I can't trust him to have Jordan on his own anymore. He's lost all privileges of babysitting, and I don't know when he'll get it back. It will be a long long time. Maybe years. Maybe never. I don't know. And I told him all of that in a note that I left for him that night. I said I forgive him. I know he's sorry. I understand. But the consequence is he has lost my trust. But all is ok, and I love him. I didn't want to leave it too long. We all have to function in this house together and I can't bare awkward deafening silences.
Dean later said to me that I probably shouldn't have sworn at him. I don't regret a thing. Me saying everything nicely wouldn't have gotten through to him. But him seeing his daughter who has always been so scared of him scream and swear at him, well that would have been like hitting a brick wall. I would have been terrified if anyone had spoken to me that way. And I think it had the desired effect. Who knows if it's enough to re-wire his brain into thinking beyond what he is doing, and think about those around him, and do simple things like close a door behind him. Who knows. Maybe while this is still raw he'll be aware, but most likely when the waters have settled a little, he'll just go back to being mindless and thoughtless. But now I know to be so careful. 1000000% careful. Not to trust that he would do the right thing. To always be aware and to have eyes everywhere. Thank God I married a man who is more aware than that. He is so much more aware. Lord knows he's not perfect, neither am I. But as far as safety goes, I think he'll be fine. And if there was any doubt, going through what we went through, would have jolted him back to reality. It's certainly done that for me.