Kid’s lessons for mom on measuring up

I was too busy looking around at how puttogether other parents appeared to notice that my 13monthold child had wandered away. Please do not call the authorities. I’ve already played every horrific scenario in my head on repeat in the days since it happened.

We were at the Marin Country Mart in Larkspur, which is like an organic outdoor Neiman Marcus pavilion designed to congratulate you for presumably succeeding at life. When I was a child, this shopping center across from the ferry terminal was called Larkspur Landing and was of zero interest. It felt like a ghost town. I’m not even sure if any of the shops there were open, I kinda breezed past them while following my dad to breakfast meetings at the nowshuttered sepiatoned Good Earth restaurant.

But in 2010, Larkspur Landing got a $10 million makeover and a sleek rebranding. It is now a charming little village complete with a trading post and koi pond. At Halloween, it hosted an “Honor System Pumpkin Patch.” And without question, I am consistently the least attractive person there.

This Patagoniapufferjacket environment had so distracted me this past weekend that I looked away from my child. Leo is an enthusiastic walker who waddles with a speed he didn’t inherit from me, and the Marin Country Mart is crowded with equally mobile kids — especially this Saturday as fresh snow was trucked in and dumped in the center play area so that sunkissed California children could have a white Christmas at least for a day.

When I was done staring at people who managed to blowdry their hair before 9 a.m., I looked down and Leo was gone. He was gone! You know that dizzying cinematic device Alfred Hitchcock used where he’d pull the camera back and zoom in at the same time? That’s what my brain did. Leo was out of my sight for about five seconds, but five seconds is an eternity when your baby is gone.

Leo, as it turned out, was about 6 feet away from me. He was making his way toward a woman eating a doughnut, which is a trait he probably did inherit from me. I dived toward Leo like a lineman tackling a quarterback, swooped him up in my arms and kissed his neck in the silly way that makes him giggle. Because I felt guilty. I felt very, very guilty.

My grandmother gifted my mother with a leash when I was 1 year old. My parents were taking me on a cruise ship, and Grandma was worried I’d go running into the sea. According to my mother, she never tied me up to anything, but having lost my son for five agonizing seconds, I don’t think I’d blame her if she had put me on a leash.

The Marin Country Mart’s pile of snow was a big hit. Leo had never seen snow before, so my father met up with us and taught his grandson how to make snowballs. I didn’t tell Dad that I’d lost Leo. I wanted to forget that it happened, to pretend I wasn’t so distracted by four decades of insecurities that I’d failed my only child. I definitely don't want to teach Leo that comparing oneself to others is healthy. I want him to feel comfortable enough in his own skin that he can function like a positive person — unlike his mother.

Leo and I split a very fancy doughnut and watched the koi fish. The more I take Leo out into the world to interact with other families, the more I worry I’m screwing it all up (and these are on days when I don’t lose him in a crowd). Many modernday parents, the ones I seem to zero in on, are spectacular in expensive, timeconsuming, wellresearched ways. Bay Area parents? They’re on a whole different level.

I know a 2yearold who has never seen a screen or eaten a crumb of processed food. I heard a parent describe his child’s toys as “curated.” Meanwhile, I’m feeling accomplished when I manage to remove the cat food from my kid’s mouth before he swallows it.

For his part, Leo couldn’t care less. He thinks I am the bee’s knees and he thinks snow is very interesting. Doughnuts taste good and anyone dressed as Santa is to be feared. He does not care that his puffy coat was purchased used on eBay, nor does he care that I lost him for five horrible seconds.

I could learn a thing or two from Leo. He, like everyone else at the Marin Country Mart, has it all together.

Many modernday parents, the ones I seem to zero in on, are spectacular in expensive, timeconsuming, wellresearched ways.