Found: One Beloved Wallet

It's true that you don't know exactly how much something is worth to you until you lose it.  I was lost without my wallet.  I learned that it defines my identity.  Isn't that trite - and crazy at the same time?

The wallet itself isn't that interesting.  It is a FlyLady special, and I like it because it is thin and (unlike most women's wallets) built to stick in your pocket.  It's longer than a regular wallet, which ultimately led to its loss  last week when it squished out of my too-shallow-to-be-anything-but-decorative-but-what-woman-wants-practical-clothes-anyway jeans pocket.  Shall I give a commentary about the general shallowness of women's clothing?  I shouldn't at this hour.

When my first husband, Jay, passed away, I took all the things out of his wallet and put them in his memory book.  I thought it was interesting to see what was important enough to him to carry around with him.  It really is a part of who you are.

For me, I had my driver's license, and my credit card.  Those were the two I was most nervous about losing.   Most precious to me is my temple recommend.  I also carry around my library card, two insurance cards, and an Old Navy gift card that might still have some credit on it so I can't yet throw it away.  In the back pocket I have a few (as in ONE dollars) bills, a spare car key, and my most recent receipts.  It's not very exciting, but those things are important to me.

And I was so grateful to have that nice couple show up at my door on Saturday afternoon with my lost wallet.  It's nice to know there are honest folks in the world.

The Lost Purse

Watch this video about a lost purse.  I would hope that we all could be as honest about who we really are, even in the privacy of our own purses and wallets.

Don't Ask

Yeah, I know.  Don't ask what the next thing coming is.

For us, it was stomach flu.  First Trent had it, and was doubled up all night.  The next night he felt mostly better, but I was up all night with Angel and Freddie.  Throwing up, diarrhea, the works.  There was one funny - Freddy threw up in bed right next to George.  Within minutes, and before I could get Freddie cleaned up in the bathroom, Angel threw up on the other side of George - and all over his blanket.  Didn't seem to bother him.

After I got the two sickies cleaned up, I pulled out fresh bedding.  I unhooked the sheets from the corners on one side of the bed, and rolled them up - with all their nasties - until I got to Georgie.  Then I pulled on the clean sheets and smoothed them out to where Sleeping Beauty was still sleeping.  I gently lifted him over the dirty sheets, rolled him onto the clean part... and he stayed asleep the whole time.  I finishued rolling off the dirty sheets and blankets, threw them in the wash, and finished pulling on the clean sheets.  I tucked everyone back in bed, and Georgie was still sleeping.  He snores.  It's adorable.

Next time, I won't ask.  Really.  (But we're all feeling much better, thank you.)

And if That Wasn't Enough

...today I did lose one of my children.  And I wrecked the car.

Alec invited Ben to spend some time with him at college.  The invitation was generous, unexpected, and made a mom happy.  I love that my kids like to be together!  So we packed Ben, his homework, an overnight bag, and random other stuff off to the bus station.  He has never ridden public transit before, and was a little bit nervous.  Alec, an old pro, emailed Ben the schedule and how to get exactly where he needed to be.  There were three legs to the trip, and Ben had to successfully navigate the bus transfers to get to the station where Alec would pick him up.

Alec called.  He wanted to know where Ben was.  Ben didn't have the archaic family cell phone turned on.  Then Ben called, but the reception failed before we could find out where he was.  Then Alec texted.  Still can't find his brother.  After much mother-worry, and much more time than was anticipated, the brothers found each other.  I  understand they were in close proximity the whole time, but just didn't see each other.  Glad my lost boy was found.

Ben and I nearly didn't make it to the bus stop on time, anyway.  Trent parked our fabulously reliable little car behind the van when he came in this evening.  I didn't see it there, and in my hurry I backed into it.  Hard.     The car's name is Squishy, since Trent bought it (for a dollar!) after it had been squished in a wreck and totalled.  He fixed it up, and although it wouldn't win any beauty awards, it has been such a good little car.  Now it looks even worse, and if we are even able to replace the front passenger door, it will be one of those two-tone redneck lovelies.

My wallet, my boy, my car.  What's on for tomorrow?

I ask in jest.  I don't want to know.

Losing and Temper Tantrums

"Losing it" and "temper tantrums" go very nicely together, don't they?  Today, a temper tantrum made me lose something else - amazingly enough, it wasn't my temper.

We took the kids to see the lights today.  It was gorgeous.  I love seeing giant trees decorated with a bazillion lights.  And they had free Christmas concerts, too.  The first concert we went to was an institute choir.  They did a really good job.  I know, I'm biased because Alec was singing with them.  Moms are supposed to be biased.  But they did sound good, and I loved watching Alec's concentration and intensity, and his enjoyment of singing.  That makes me happy.

After that concert, we met Alec and a few of his friends, hugged, saw some more lights, and then went back for the second concert.  This one was the top choir in Ben's school.  We got a sneak peek at their songs last night at the high school choir concert, where Ben did an amazing job.  Did I say that I love listening to my boys sing?  Love it.

After sitting (somewhat) still for two (somewhat short) concerts, the little ones were done.  They'd had it.  Especially Freddie.  He could not sit still for anything.  Outside was better, but there was such a crowd of people walking that I was sure we would lose someone.  Trent had Freddie, Ben had the Angel, David and Eddie were buddies, and Georgie was riding on Chris's shoulders.  I did head counts about every two minutes, and was always so relieved that no children were yet missing.

We went into a building to rest and see the exquisite interior.  I am not exaggerating.  The old hotel is a masterpiece, and when it is all decked out for Christmas - wow.  I ducked into a little cafe and bought a few cookies to validate our parking.  The little ones were quite edgy by the time I got back.  I broke one of the large cookies in half to give to the twins.

Freddie saw the half-cookie I was offering to him and smiled, but then saw the whole cookie in my other hand.  He started to scream.  Right there in the manicured hallway of the beautiful building, with nicely-dressed people bustling past.  I held up the cookie again, trying to soothe him, but he would have nothing of it.  He took the cookie, pitched it across the hallway, threw himself on the floor, and proceeded to have a full-blown, creaming, kicking tantrum.  It was a doozy.

I bent down and tried to quiet him, but it was too late.  I finally scooped him up, crying and kicking, and hauled him outside so at least it wouldn't echo as much.  I tried not to make eye contact with anyone in the holiday crowd.  Tantrums happen.

We walked half a block and got out to the street corner when I realized I was missing my wallet.  When I changed into clean jeans just before loading everyone up in the van, I realized that my non-mommy jeans had very short pockets.  I wouldn't be taking a purse, and I knew I'd have to be careful with my wallet sticking out of those cute but impractical pockets.  I even had a little prompting to just take my credit card and leave the wallet home.  I should have listened.

Coming out of the cafe, I was balancing a stack of cookies, the validated parking ticket, my receipt, and the wallet.  I had shoved the wallet into my (even shorter) front pocket to free up my hands.  When I crouched down to deal with the temper tantrum, it must have been squeezed out of my pocket and onto the floor.

Yes, I went back and looked for it.  Yes, I prayed about it (and so have the boys).  I talked to the people at the cafe, and the help desk.  I gave them my phone number and a description of the wallet.  I got the number for security, which I will call in the morning.  I have done everything I could.

Except avoiding the problem in the first place by following that little prompting.

I lost my wallet, not my children, and not my temper.  I'd like to lose the tantrums, though.

A Baby Cow...

While I was getting the Angel ready for bed tonight, she stopped and had to ask me a Very Important Question.  I understand that these things take time to formulate and consider.

"Mom?"  she asked, her brow furrowing in thought.  I paused and gave her my full attention.

"What if we saw..."  I waited.

"A... baby cow's... butt?"

Well.  I told her I supposed it would look different from hers, but something similar to a big cow's behind.

"I think it would be cute," she grinned.

Making Dollies

Angel loves her dollies.  She is often found carrying one around the house, wrapped in a scarf or a blanket, wearing whatever meager doll clothing we have - or not.  In a household of lots of boys, we're big on blocks and trucks and a bit short on doll paraphernalia.

And no matter how much her brothers mock or turn up their noses, I encourage her dollies.  I want her to play and imagine and learn to nurture.  It's part of her nature.  Of course, I must insert that these strapping fine lads of mine each had a (boy) dolly when they were little.  It was a good way to prepare them for the next baby, and give them a little one to hold and cuddle while Mom was busy with the real baby.  And yes, they did play with their dollies.  Just not as much as the Angel does.

Two years ago, when Angel was in the hospital after her fall, the nurses gave her a dolly.  It's more of a stuffed cloth gingerbread man, really.  They had a basic cotton body, no face, no clothes.  The kids would get to pick a hospital gown for the dolly, so it was half clothed.  They let the children color a face on the dolly, and then practice different procedures on the dolly so it wouldn't be so frightening for the children.  Put a bandage on the dolly, have the dolly wear an anesthesia mask, give the dolly a shot; then it was easier to work with the children.  Oh, and they did the same for siblings of patients, as well.

As a result, we have four gingerbread dollies (and three hospital gowns).

You can see the remains of a face on one of them.  The rest of the marker-drawn face came off in the wash. Seeing these naked nymphs around the house gave me an idea.  I'll fix them into real dollies for Angel's Christmas presents.

First stop: identity.  There are four dollies, so I decided to model them after Angel's four great-grandmothers.  I did some research and found out when they were all born, and what their coloring was.  I really enjoyed learning about them, and I hope that Angel will feel connected to these good ladies.

Second step: faces.  I really wanted to embroider them, but I realize that I'd spend way too much time.  And these are hospital dollies.  One day I'll make lovely, homemade dolls.  But for today, it's all about fabric paint.

I humbly present (from left to right, in order of birthdate): Fern, Helene, Virginia, and Amy.  Blue eyes, brown eyes, brown-hazel, and green-hazel.  I could get so carried away here.  Basic.  Think basic.  I don't have much time to work on them when Angel is not around, so it's gotta be quick and easy and simple.

Next, we grow hair.