Gone like a freight-train, gone like yesterday, gone like a soldier in a civil war, bang bang..

So I take my kids to the outlet mall to find the new sketcher's croc's (with the backs on them and straps across the foot). We roll in with our great big double stroller, which of course doesn't fit down any of the aisles, and I've got to park it nearby. So, I've got my kids parked and strapped in. I find a pair of shoes for my daughter, get her out, sit her down and put them on, and just as I set her down on the floor to have her walk for me, I hear a huge commotion and next thing I know my son is buried under about 12 boxes of shoes.

As he weighs about 21lbs dripping wet, he is literally buried. He'd pulled the bottom box from the shelf, and the rest came toppling down. I quickly scoop the boxes up, shove them back on the shelf, and I swear, 30 seconds later, I turn around and my daughter is gone. Gone. GONE!

I frantically called her name, and started searching the aisles - but what the fuck is up with shoe stores who have those shelving units up to my breasts, and barely able to see over. I ran throughout the store calling for her, and ran to the door.

I ran out into the mall and must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights, trying to figure out which way she might have gone. A very young couple walking past, totally nonchalantly asks if I'm looking for a little girl. WTF? NO SHIT SHERLOCK, I'm looking for a little girl. My little girl. They said she was about 9 or 10 stores down... I ran frantically.... as I'm running I feel sick to my stomach, and almost want to puke. I then realise as I'm running and screaming her name, I've left my wallet on top of my stroller, and my other kid in the stroller, alone, in the shoe store. I keep calling and there's no answer. I can't see past the sea of people, and I'm thinking when and if I get her, I'm going to bloody kill her. She is obviously coming into the "terrible twos" stage.

I finally see her. She's "shuffled" her way at a high rate of speed, with the stupid anti-theft device holding the stupid crocs together in the middle. So much for their fucking anti-theft program. I grab her up, and I admit the first thing I wanted to do was slap her silly. Or puke. I couldn't figure out which. I screamed at her the whole way back to the shop, and as she's so sensitive by nature, that was probably worse than a spanking. She was balling her eyes out when we got back to the shop, and thankfully Houdini hadn't gone anywhere. God knows I was in no mood for him to do a disappearing act.

I pulled the shoes off her, grabbed my son's, and slapped them down on the counter. Of course the one and only store employee is oblivious to all that's gone on, (which makes me want to slap him too) and he wants to sell me the doo-dads for the shoes. I'm barely lucid enough to get money out of my wallet, which was thankfully still sitting on top of the stroller, and the last thing I want to do is ponder fucking pins for the shoes.

I've hated the idea of "leashes" but I swear to God, my children need to be leashed.

I felt like such a bad mommie, and it took days for me to settle down, and not feel nauseous everytime I thought about it.