This summer, at a family reunion with Ben’s large and diverse paternal family, we had finally packed up babies into car seats, bags and camp chairs and miscellania into the car, and were preparing to drive the two plus hours home, but one thing stopped us in our tracks. We were missing a pacifier. One baby had a pacifier, the other did not. It was the green one on a navy striped strap that was missing that time, if I remember right, and we described the color and appearance repeatedly as more and more of Ben’s large and diverse family joined in the search. Cousins I don’t know names for, and kind aunts who are grandmothers themselves, and the babies’ own grandparents, all joined forces for the cause of our little ones who each need a pacifier of their own to go to sleep. “I fastened it on Teddy’s shirt,” someone said. So I checked the dirty clothes I had taken off of him. No pacifier. They had them when they were in the cabin sitting area! I remembered. But turning over cushions revealed no pacifiers.

Finally, someone set up the cry and the news spread by domino affect to one searcher bumping into the next until all of us had heard the good news–“We found it!” It was next to the big truck tire Teddy had been examining minutely that afternoon.

It’s a story that repeats itself over and over–we are at a friend’s house, or at church, at a family gathering, or in a store… We scour grounds and houses and businesses for those elusive objects that are so hard to live with, but impossible to do without. One pacifier is not good enough–we need two. In a pinch I have made do with a bottle nipple, I have borrowed my niece’s pacifier, and always friends and family have gathered around in support of the dire circumstances–every parent seems to understand.

Today in the grocery store, I suddenly realized my somewhat verbal daughter didn’t have her moose nuk anymore–the same stuffed moose with a pacifier attached that was left in Texas in April and returned to us a few weeks ago. I walked through the store and didn’t see him, then checked out hoping he would turn up under my groceries. No moose. I knew he had to be in the store somewhere, but I didn’t have the energy to go searching again with a cart full of groceries and restless toddlers. So I took them all to the car. I had carpooled to work with Ben, and my mom was driving to meet me and take me to her place for the day, so Ben could have the car. Maybe my mom could babysit while I went moose-hunting.

Instead, my mom let me stay in the car with the twins while she went on a moose-hunt. She must be dedicated to this occupation. She was the one who had bagged the same moose and brought him home from Texas. The twins and I waited and waited in the car, and I had almost given up hope when my mom came out with a moose in her hand. She offered it to Ellie, who just smiled, a slow and happy smile and stuck the pacifier into her mouth.

“I walked all around the store, and I asked different workers at all the places, like the deli, and they just said ‘You should check at the customer service desk,’ but I already had and I just thought maybe someone might have it somewhere and not taken it up front yet, and I had almost given up hope, and then finally one of the workers said, ‘Oh, I know where that is,’ and she got him! He had been on a shelf somewhere.” my mom said.

This evening we gathered as a family and had a picnic at my dad’s gravesite as our tradition is. The children and babies ran around the graveyard together exploring. As the chill and dusk crept over the graveyard, Ellie got tired and wanted held. Then she let Mommy know what she really needed. “Nuk,” she begged in her little girl voice.

I looked around for a pacifier for my daughter. Either one would do. My babies share pacifiers all the time. But I couldn’t find a single one. Small son soon came to find me too. They grumbled and cried. Nuks are very necessary as bedtime nears. My babies have probably never, or at least very seldom, gone to sleep without them. I got the little ones ready for bed and tucked them in their carseats. “Nuk!” Someone begged Mommy again.

And then the search began in earnest. The whole family joined in. My mom soon crowed and held up the green pacifier on a strap. We all rejoiced. But where was the missing moose? That wild and elusive creature, that friend of my little girl? We formed a line and walked between tomb stones. I counted nine phone lights lit up, bobbing around the now dark grave yard. I wonder what the people in the passing cars thought.

“Did anyone check our car?” Ben asked after we had covered most of the graveyard.

“But they weren’t in the car at all!” I said.

But when he went to the car and opened the door, there was moose, snoozing peacefully in comfort in the back seat.

“At least you know we all love your twins!” someone said.

Yes. Our family and friends have showed us over and over how much they love our twins. We were as grateful for that as we were for the fact that the two babies were now contently sucking their pacifiers, moose and otherwise, snuggled sleepy under blankets.

I had to wonder what my dad would have said about all this… I think he would have helped search too. I think he would have laughed. He would love my twins too…