The Case Of The Missing Purse (And My Subsequent Heart Attack)

I made a huge mistake.  The kids had just gotten out of the pool after a full day of swimming and my youngest was toast.  So tired, she was snoring and I couldn't even get her out of her swimsuit.  My oldest was in front of the Playstation and, since I'm good friends with the neighbors, I thought a quick trip to Walmart for pool chemicals wouldn't be a problem.  Let me state, for the record, I've never (EVER) left my older daughter to babysit her little sister. EVER.  I figured I'd be gone less than thirty minutes.

I handed the phone to my firstborn and told her she was to call me if her sister woke up.  She was to call me if her sister wasn't behaving.  She was to call me if she had to do anything more than breathe.  Then I turned on the security alarm, secured the place like Fort Knox and left her with all the pertinent phone numbers.  I should have known better.  Truly, I was a moron for thinking it was a good idea.  I worried, heart racing, all the way (2 minutes by car) to Walmart. 

When I got there, I broke all the speed laws with the shopping cart, raced around like a maniac.  I tossed things in the cart without even checking prices and then it happened: the inevitable phone call.  I'd been inside the store for approximately ten seconds.

"Mom.  Allie's awake and she's fighting with me and not listening and I don't know what to do."

I could hear screaming in the background and my shopping trip went straight out the window.   I ran to the checkout line and, miracle of miracles, was through the line and outside in about five minutes flat.  I don't remember throwing bags into the car, nor do I remember much of the drive home. I burst into the house to find the girls sitting calmly in front of Hannah Montana.  Nobody was bleeding or injured.  Whatever the girls had been fighting over, it was a thing of the past.  I silently thanked God for the free pass and vowed never to leave them home again.  My vow lasted two minutes.

I went to get my purse and bags from the car.  The bags were there.  My purse wasn't.  I knew what had happened.  I knew better than to go to Walmart in the first place.  Our Walmart is, as I've stated a million (and one) times, a freakshow.  Missing teeth, gang tattooes, ex-cons, fights brewing in Sporting Goods, but its fairly close to our subdivisison, the pool chemicals are cheap, and our pool was starting to look a little green.  I was furious.  Money, identification, checkbook, credit cards, bank card...and my new iPhone, a birthday present from my husband and the girls, all gone.  I wanted to cry.  I also wanted to track down the hillbilly meth-head who'd snatched my purse while my back was turned and beat 'em to a pulp. (Very Walmart-like behavior.)

I tried to call Walmart but got transferred to voicemail and I knew time was of the essence.  I was going to find my purse!  I handed the phone and bags to my older daughter, told the younger one I'd ground her until junior high if she misbehaved, and-for the second time in ten minutes-ran through stop signs on my way back to the store, while my girls stayed at home, alone. 

My cart was exactly where I'd left it.  No purse.  I was secretly hoping I'd forgotten it and it would still be waiting when I got there (fat chance).  I scanned the parking lot, viewed every patron over the age of 6 months as a potential purse snatcher and fumed.  Finally, I went to customer service and explained the problem.  I expected the clerk to shake her head in pity.  She didn't.  She smiled broadly and asked me to describe my handbag.  Her smile got bigger.  She turned and went into a locked storeroom and came out with my purse in her hands. 

"A customer found it in a shopping cart outside and brought it in."

Sure, I thought.  After stealing what? 

I opened my purse and almost wet my pants.  My iPhone was in it's case.  My credit cards were undisturbed.  The handful of bills I'd gotten as change and thrown into my purse were still there.  Every. Single. One.  I almost wet my pants in relief.  Then, something came over me.  I can't quite explain the feeling.  It was a mixture of gratefulness, guilt, and just a teeny bit of shame. 

"Wow,"  I told the clerk. "Everything's here.  I guess there really are still honest people left in the world."

Of course, what I really meant was, "I guess not every customer here is a criminal out to get me." 

The clerk just smiled and I left the store, purse in hand.

So what is the  moral of my story?  I do need to stop generalizing and classifying people into categories.  Just because the customers tend to be in a different socioeconomic group than mine doesn't mean they're thiefs and criminals.  I'll still avoid Sporting Goods, and I do think the place needs a massive cleanliness overhaul, but I will remember the kindness of the stranger who turned in my handbag.  Instead of being jaded, I will try to remember that for every not-so-nice person in the world, there are a million others who are.  A random act of kindness can change your life.  Even the simplest things can make a difference.  I'll pay it forward.

And just so you know?  The kids were still breathing when I got home, the house was still standing, and my older daughter had everything under control.  She's ready to be in charge.  Unfortunately, after that trip, I realize that I'M not ready for her to be in charge.

20 Signs You Need A Mommy Break...

1.  When the only current events you're aware of include Miley Cyrus's latest fashion crisis and the recent breakup of Demi Lovato and one of the Jonas Brothers.

2.  When the last time you went to a concert it was to accompany three tween girls to see Taylor Swift.

3.  When you open up your ten-year-old's fourth grade yearbook and find more photos of yourself (in a volunteer capacity) than you ever did in your own high school yearbooks.

4. When you scroll through your IPhone apps and discover fourteen (count em!) apps devoted to ABC flashcards, multiplication facts, and a knock-off Where's Waldo game.

5.  When your five year old daughter thinks it is perfectly acceptable to knock on the glass shower door while you're shaving your legs to ask if you could please 'hurry up' because she wants a piece of gum and only you can find it.

Anything BUT Easy-Peasy

My husband needed a refill on his cholesterol meds last week.  The usual routine would include calling the pharmacy and requesting another scrip, which they would secure from the doctor and he would drive the three miles to our pharmacy drive-through window. Easy-Peasy, right?  Except, this time, my husband was in Florida--not California--and couldn't exactly swing by and pick up the scrip....."Houston, we have a problem."  It took me five seconds to figure this one out.  It took the doctor's office three DAYS...at which point they failed, miserably.

Operation Summer Family Bonding Is Cleared For Takeoff...

It's time to take a stand (literally).  I refuse to spend an entire Summer with my children glued to the Nickelodeon Channel, the PlayStation or their computers.  They need to go out and play.  Granted, Summer can be blazing hot in these parts and when it is, inside is the only place to be. However, the mornings are lovely and the evenings are comfortable and, in the meantime, would it kill them to actually read a book for fun?  Maybe clean their rooms? (Okay...that might be pushing it just a bit.)...more after the jump

Picasso Has Nothing On Allie

I picked Allie up at preschool yesterday and Miss Karina took me aside for a little 'chat'.  Earlier in the day, Allie had gone to her-crying about a 'bad thing' she had done- and Miss Karina figured that whatever it was, guilt had gotten the better of her....I'm not convinced this was case but, since I wasn't there, I'll go with the teacher's interpretation.

"Allie, what's wrong, sweetie?  Miss Karina had asked, alarmed.  (Allie doesn't dissolve into tears on a regular basis.)

"I did something not nice."  Allie said, hanging her head.

"What did you do?"  Miss Karina said and was, no doubt, busy scanning the classroom to see if any other children were crying.  None were.

"When I was at home this morning...I drew a picture of Bryce." 

"Oh.  Did you bring it with you?  Did you want to give it to Bryce?" 

"No!  It was a not-nice picture!" 

"Why was it 'not nice'?"  I'm sure Miss Karina was thinking she'd intentionally colored him green and turned him into a martian or a monster.  Allie doesn't have a history of being particularly kind to little boys who tease her...(last year she had to make apologies to the bigger boys who ransacked her playhouse.  She'd told them if they didn't get out she was going to kill them...I know which boys she was referring to and it was difficult to blame her but I understand we can't let her get into a habit of threatening to 'kill' anyone!)

"I drew Bryce wearing a dress."  Allie said.

"Did you bring the picture to school?"  Miss Karina asked.

"No."

"So Bryce hasn't seen the picture?"

"No.  I think I should probably go tell him I'm sorry."

"Did you tell him about the picture?"  Miss Karina asked.

"No."

"Well, then, I think it would be better if you didn't tell him about that."

"But it was mean."

At this point of Miss Karina's recollection, the wheels in my brain are beginning to turn.  I imagine that as Allie is telling this story, her little clique of friends are deciding which one gets to nark on Allie for drawing the picture in the first place. I'm also guessing Allie was just looking for a laugh  and thought it was a funny story... but then regretted her decision...because clique or no clique...preschoolers are notorious tattletales and she knew it was a matter of time before Lauren or Samantha or Tawny ratted her out.

I could spend all day wondering why Allie drew Bryce wearing a dress.  Upon telling Kevin the story, he thought Allie had done it because she liked Bryce but, since boys are the equivalent of rabid dogs in Allie's world, she couldn't very well hang out with him unless she 'turned him into a girl'.  Makes sense.  If it had been Sophie who drew the picture, I'd agree with the logic.  Allie, on the other hand, was most likely being a turkey because Bryce had made her mad at some point in the not-too-distant past.  I'm almost positive that the picture stayed home ONLY because she'd forgotten it that morning and if it had made it into the classroom, she'd have given it to him.

Miss Karina, however, decided to give Allie the benefit of the doubt and she made a pact with her:  Allie would go home and throw away 'Bryce In A Dress' and draw another picture of Bryce in his jeans.  Miss Karina was hoping I could help Allie find a fresh sheet of paper and her crayons when we got home that day.  While telling me the story, Karina was holding back laughter, struggling to look serious. I  followed her lead and attempted to remain straightfaced (in case Allie was listening to the conversation( but everytime Karina and I looked at eachother we had to fight back waves of laughter. 

Only my four-year-old could have figured out that drawing a boy in a dress was an insult and I think her 'tears' were her attempt at damage control-not shame.  I'm all for 'girl power' but, suddenly, I have this weird feeling that Kindergarten is going to require me to spend a great deal of time in the principals office discussing Allie's behavior.  Lucky me. 

I still haven't found the picture but when I do, I'm uploading it.  Stay tuned.