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It was a bad day. A day about as bad as you can get without anything meaningfully bad (death of loved ones, serious illness or accident, house burning down, loss of entire computer hard drive, etc.) happening.
A Chronology:
1. I leave my friend’s home in a rush. I urgently need diapers and have to be home before Duncan’s preschool carpool arrives. We drive directly to Target. Upon arrival, I discover that my purse is missing.
2. We return in haste to my friend’s house. After a brief search, the purse is discovered under the couch. Grace: The kids left a bit of purse strap peeping out from under the couch, which made it possible for us to find it.
3. It is too late to accomplish my necessary errand. Grace: My carpool friend offers to keep Duncan at her house until it is time to go.
4. I speedily retrace my path back to Target with Kate. We enjoy a fairly pleasant shopping trip as we pick up various needful items throughout the store. Grace: I begin to relax after the earlier purse problem.
5. Meanwhile, I forgot to get Kate’s promised sippy cup at home before returning to the store. I promise her we will get a drink at Target. I forget. She reminds me near the end of our shopping trip: Peez Mo! Peez Mo! [Please Milk!] I select a little bottle of chocolate milk and promise to open it after we 1) pay for it and 2) get a straw. She calms and hugs the bottle adoringly.
6. The cashier scans our items. It is difficult to get Kate to give up her little milk chug, but after a lot of explanation and wheedling she hands it over and then gets it right back. It is time to pay. I look in my purse: No wallet. Well, I have a checkbook. I write out a check (I never pay by check). The cashier asks for ID, but I have no ID–it is in my wallet. She suggests that if I bought less, the computer might not insist on ID. The line lengthens and people tap their feet as the cashier tries reringing up my two necessary items–the milk and the diapers. Kate has to be coaxed into relinquishing the milk again. The computer churns and churns and for some reason it takes a long time to delete the other items we had bought.
7. I get the new total and write a new check. We are ready to go. ”Oh wait,” the cashier says, “it is still asking for your ID.” Well . . . I still don’t have my wallet. I have no choice. I have to leave the diapers and the MILK. I apologize to Kate, knowing she can’t possibly understand, and take her milk away to leave with the cashier.
8. We make it just past the drinking straws before Kate realizes her loss. She acts as any self-respecting nigh-unto-2 year old would: she goes berzerk. I struggle to carry her out to the car, murmuring apologies the whole while. She is too upset to drink from the fountain.
9. We get to the car. I can’t find my keys. I try to shift Kate to look better. She tries to run away. There are cars whizzing. It makes me nervous. I haul her back into the store. We sit down outside the photo booth and I go through my pockets and purse over and over. No keys. No wallet. Grace: I discover some change I had forgotten about in my pocket (I never have change in my pocket).
10. I sheepishly return to the cashier and ask her if I might have left my keys there. She looks at me incredulously: Nope. I pay for the milk. Grace: Chocolate milk relieves all of Kate’s woes and she becomes a happy camper.
11. My cart is gone. (That’s where I would usually discover my keys. [I know; it is a bad sign that I can apply a "usually" to this situation.]) The front desk hasn’t had any keys turned in. I scan the cart receptacles hopelessly until store security comes, eyeing me suspiciously and asking if I need help. You betcha. I explain my predicament. He says,”Oh, well, they’re probably in somebody’s cart. They’ll turn them in when they notice them.” Um, yeah, I hope. I try to retrace my steps in the store. I was everywhere in that store. I study other people’s carts surreptitiously to see if my keys are dangling anywhere. Nothing.
12. I am pleased to discover that I have my cell phone with me (I usually forget it). I turn it on, thinking that perhaps Pdad could get a taxi and come rescue me (Did I mention we are a one car family?) It says “Recharge battery!” and then it dies. I continue retracing my steps, mostly hopeless, waiting for a miracle to occur. Grace: And then voila! There are my keys, sitting as if they belonged in the toothbrush display.
13. We return home thankfully. I am worn out. I check my blog: there are no new comments [Had you guessed that you were part of my bad day?]. Grace: Kate naps. After just a few minutes, Duncan is home. So much for my 2 hour block of time. So much for the laundry, the papers to be sorted, and the dishwasher to be loaded.
14. We get ready for swimming. The kids swim. Grace: We are on time and Amelia, especially, looks good and is working hard. By the time the other kids are ready to go, Kate is running wild. I need to get her home. But I can’t find my keys. [No, I am not making this up. No, I do not want to hear your advice about always putting one's keys away in the same place and the importance of not carrying your keys around in your hands. I. know. that. Remind me next week when I am feeling better.] We search the elevator, the observation booth, the deck of the pool, the changing room, the restrooms and the lifeguard’s hallway. We ask at the front desk. We trudge up and down the icy parking lot. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
15. I call Pdad’s work number. Busy. I call his cell: voicemail. I leave an urgent message: Come rescue your family and call me as soon as you get this! Swim lessons were over at 4:30. It is now 5:15. The minutes tick by and I imagine the important meeting that might be keeping Pdad from answering his phone. In this economy, I am glad he doesn’t answer. What if he is talking to someone who would disapprove of leaving a few minutes early to rescue your family? Tick, tick, tick. I continue to wait and search for the keys with my non fitness center approved weight: 28 lb. Kate. It is a workout. Finally at quarter to six, I risk the ire of the imaginary manager. I call back. He answers. Grace: Help is on the way! We get home at 7:15.
Other graces:
1. Pdad was scheduled to be out of the country on business today. Hurray for canceled trips! Without access to his keys, the situation would have been really terrible.
2. I am so thankful that I never have to deny my child food. I am thankful that I can choose to be frugal (or not) at the grocery store, and that I have a great deal of freedom in what food I can buy my family. I know how fortunate I am. I don’t have to watch every penny to make sure my child gets enough. I never have to see her be truly hungry or thirsty. I am almost always able to keep my promises to my children.
3. I am thankful that we have a safe, comfortable car to drive home in.
Comments
9 Responses to “A Bad Day–with plenty of grace thrown in”
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I’ve had a few days like that, and they are not fun. Sometimes the whole universe seems to be working against you, doesn’t it. Hopefully the days since have been better!
We’ve all had bad days, but I admit that’s a good one. I hope you know that if you ever need help you can call.
I’m so sorry your day was so bad, but how fortunate to see the hidden blessings. I lost my keys yesterday at Target for about 30 minutes, too, and my husband is on the east coast this week. I came –><– that close to a waterfall of tears.
I HATE losing my keys. It seems to happen mostly during the summer, because in the winter I just keep them in my coat pocket, but in the summer they have no home other than my previous day’s jeans. I think they need to invent some sort of keychain that is sort of like a cell phone that you can call when you lose your keys and have it ring really, really loud. Do they have anything like that? Cuz I would buy it.
Anyway, glad you survived. Kids just make situtations like that a million times worse, too. If you managed to make it through this kind of day without blowing up at them, then you are a saint. Did you ever find your wallet, by the way?
Did you ever find your keys that 2nd time?
Wallet–Yes, found in sweater at home.
Keys–No, still missing. I asked at the Rec Center desk today and no one has turned them in. With the more sunny weather, I also scoured the now mostly dry parking lot (well, in and around all the cars parked in it) but I had no luck. This is bad news because I think that key and key fob will be very expensive to replace.
Boo. That is bad!!
Hope things are going better today!
Julie–where did you finally find your keys? How did you find them? Did you have all three kids with you?
[...] frightened because always returning the key to the same spot was my plan before. You know, when I lost the keys. And when I lost them again. And again. I feel like my plan needs more detail somehow. But [...]