Yesterday I took my kids outside at about 4 and we went to play at the park and check the mail. I used my keys to get the mail out and then we walked for a while, then played like we do every day. We went home and played some more. Somewhere in-between there and here I lost my keys without knowing it.
We always pick up my husband from the bus stop at 5. I get the kids ready at 4:45 so that we can be all loaded up and on the way in enough time to get there just before the bus does. I have shoes on both kids, the diaper bag ready, phone in my hand and umm, I can’t find my keys.
Panic, stress, and frustration hit me all at once, as I start tearing the house I just cleaned apart to find those keys. I looked in my kids toys, I looked on all the counters, I have exhausted places to look. I beg the kids to look and ask them if they have seen mommy’s keys. Zoe says, “I know where you keys are”, I ask her, “where, please get them for mommy we are going to be late picking up daddy.” Then she says, “I don’t know where they are, they could be anywhere”. “They could be anywhere” is usually one of the cutest things that she says, but at that moment, it was mostly frustrating.
So I call my husband to tell him that I can’t find my keys, and I didn’t want to make this call because he has told me before that if I put my keys in the same spot every day that I would not lose them. Easier said than done, I’m utterly unorganized and haven’t a clue on how to get organized.
I repeat my search, looking deeper into the kids toy bins, dumping them all out into the floor, look in all the drawers and empty them onto the counter tops. I looked in the garage and in my front door. I still couldn’t find them, I began to wonder if maybe I left them at the mailbox. As I was considering running to the mail box to check, I put my hands on my hips and suddenly I hear the van unlock in the garage. Ah Hah! One of the kids is playing with my keys. I automatically assume that it was my son. I run over to him and say where are the keys, he looks at me like I’m crazy. I put my hands on my hips again and say, “where are my keys?” and as the words are coming out of my mouth, I feel them in my back pocket of my pants. I never put anything in those pockets.
So finally we were able to load up and get into the van to pick my husband up from the bus stop. Which, he was quite happy for us to be late because the bus stop is in the Staples parking lot. My husband went shopping while I was running around like a chicken with their head caught off.Powered by Sidelines