Today was one of those days … the kind where you feel just a few steps behind where you should be.
Thanks to my CMD (Calendar Management Disorder), I was off almost from the get-go. I’m not sure what fueled my laissez-faire attitude, but I struggled with breakfast, Molasses Man (who has moved in slow motion for 2 days in a row… how many times must I repeat, “Get you stuff ready the night before?!), and stragglers. They barely got out the door on time. In fact, they passed my drop dead 7:33 departure time. Lucky for them Dad was driving today.
Once they left, Jack and I settled in for some Q-T until his 11:30 swimming lesson. It was at this time I began my search. A search for my phone. It was absolutely nowhere to be found.
I had recently taken off the phone’s bright color cover (it pulls my hair – but I just don’t have the heart to ditch it. Go-To-Girl spent her hard earned cash for a sweet Christmas gift). It’s much harder to find the slippery, blendy, sleek little coverless thing… perfectly suited for sliding between a couch cushion or blending into deep dark places under things. Add our little Future Hoarder of America to the picture… and the search could be a long one.
So as I methodically began looking and found all sorts of “treasure” stashes.
The Zoob bucket filled to the brim with many non-zoob items… such as the girls’ brush. Not only have the been searching for weeks to find the darn thing, they also stole mine days ago to compensate.
Then there’s his bed.
I can understand the stuffed animals – but why the extra load of stuff… and how does he sneak it in there? I can’t tell you how often I declutter that space.
Everyone needs a cup and baggie of coins for a rainy day.
Just make sure to hide them under a bed.
And a stack of cups on the couch… just for good measure.
You never know when you might get thirsty… or need a fun stacking game.
But NO PHONE. I knew he had it, though.
As I searched my fragile memory, going through all the things I did and when I had my phone, it ended every time with him playing in the back seat of car on our way home from the grocery store. Yes, I was convinced that those sticky little fingers were the last to handle the phone. I looked and looked… but no phone.
The day went on. I tried the game of standing in different areas of the house or making my way to the car then calling myself. It rang and rang (so it still had life), but the phone was nowhere to be found. Errands were run. Swimming lessons had. Dentist appointment kept (although I showed up early – not my usual M.O.). Kids’ dentist appointments almost missed.
Finally the kids came bounding in the door from school. I reached for help.
“I’ll give anyone who can find my phone $5.” Granted a big reward, but I was sick of looking for the thing!
“$5??!!” almost in unison.
“Yes five dollars.”
… squeals erupted.
“I’m going to find it!” excitedly yelled Speed Police. Then she reached for the home phone. I rolled my eyes, knowing that she could call, but no ring would be heard.
Ring.. Ring…… Ring… Ring.
What?!!! It can’t be.
Running to sound’s location, Speed Policed announced, “I’m going to find it!!!”
“No Me!!” shrieks Go-To-Girl.
I’m stuck in place wondering how in the world the phone could be in the house.
The girls follow the ring to the front door where I have a couple bags hanging on our coat rack. Suffice it to say I had searched, emptied, then searched again through those bags. No phone. But the ring was definitely coming from that direction.
It sounded like the chime was coming from Slow Walker’s backpack. …. IT WAS!!! … We fumble over each other to reach for the bag’s zipper. Sure enough my phone was buried under the kid’s sweater at the bottom of the bag.