Here's mine: Mae and I spent the afternoon shopping at Babies 'R Us picking up supplies for the house, for our big trip to Detriot and for Mae's soon-to-be little brother. Part way through the adventure, as is the norm in such a large store, Mae needed a diaper change. So, we went to the ladies room to take care of business -- but Mae was in no mood. Nothing would keep her calm (and still) enough for a change. Except her Momma's keys. Oh, how she loves the keys.
Ok, I think, so I'll hand her the keys but worried that she might drop the keys (which are electronic) into the toilet. Sure, I knew better; but sometimes you have to learn the hard way. But no, she didn't drop them -- at least I thought she didn't. We got the diaper changed and got on our way back to shopping.
An hour later (this is a big store), we check out and go to the car... except, I have no keys. Not in the diaper bag. Not in my pockets. Not in Mae's pockets or even her diaper (sometimes it happens, so I checked). Not in the cart, not anywhere.
So frantically, I go back in the store (with the shopping cart full of bags) and frantically retrace my steps. No luck. And then, I remember the bathroom trip. Hmmmm... the bathroom... but where?
After completely checking the diaper pail (because these kids are fast, maybe she chucked them? Maybe she hid them in the dirty diaper while I was getting her cleaned up?), still no keys. Frantically searching and racking my brain and then I wonder -- could they be in the changing station? Didn't I have some trouble closing it -- or was that just the buckles?
For those that have not had the pleasure, the changing station (typically found in public restrooms) are these tables that fold out from the wall and have these belts and buckles to secure your squirming darling before taking care of business. They are secured VERY WELL to the wall, and are pretty indestructible as I can now attest having tried to DISMANTLE the one that I discovered holding my keys hostage.
It's amazing how in a flash you suddenly remember things you didn't know you had seen -- like my daughter dropping the keys near the joint as I put on her diaper and scooper her up before she twisted off the table. Immediately after this thought, the scary thoughts of having to call Rich and explain how I lost the keys or having to live in the Babies R Us because we can't get in the car raced through my brain.
Two fantastic store associates, a screaming Mae (mad she can't be part of the fun), three paper clips, a pen, several coins, an hour and a coat hanger later -- we were able to retrieve the keys (YIPPEE!!!). What a moment of relief!
And that's when I knew, I was a mom. And I also knew from this moment on, I can never let Mae hold my keys again. But, now I have a great "Mae story" for the future.
1 comment:
Oh, I'm so sorry! What an adventure. What is it with keys and cell phones??
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