Thursday, November 12, 2009

Lost and not Found

I've lost my tools of the trade. They are:

Black Fanny Pack (I know it isn't chic, okay. But, hey, it is le sportsac.)
Digital Camera

I also lost my credit cards and some money. But I can live without those for longer. And thank god I can't haul my oven around. Because I probably would have lost it, too.

I took Georgia to see Santa at the mall last night. And we had so much fun that we stayed past bedtime and running-around-town (nee big city), with a stroller, time. So, after the last photo of Georgia (in sundress) looking at a "winter wonderland" scene (I've really embraced this parenting thing and Christmas in the tropics.), I quickly tossed her back in the stroller, gingerly deposited my fanny pack in the basket below her seat, and race-walked home. Why didn't I snap my fanny pack back around my fanny? Bad move. We must have hit a hum-dinger of a bump and the purse-ish thing slithered onto the sidewalk--without my noticing.

Once home, I went for the key in the pack. And my fingers groped nothingness. My stomach fell like the first hill on the rollercoaster. Disregarding safety, we high-tailed it back to the sidewalks of the (now really dark) city. I tried to re-trace my steps and I just couldn't remember the route. We went back to the lost and found at the mall (no luck either). And there we were without cab fare, house key, or cell. Amazingly, my daughter (who usually acts like her stroller seat is an upside down pincushion) didn't squirm or utter a peep other than a raised eyebrow worried "mommy." (Thanks, G.)

And for some reason I could only remember my husband's old phone number. But I did remember my mother-in-laws (funny how that works). The story ended up as you would all imagine it. We got home and went on. (Oh and Georgia did poop on the floor but I'll save that for another day.) Naturally I couldn't sleep. And today there is "an empty" in my stomach. I feel lost without my tools. I know it is trite to moan material things with such a full belly existence. Nor should I behave like a spoiled toddler. I shouldn't need them and want them back right now. But I do. Because every cute (pigtails today) gesture of Georgia has me reaching for my non-existent camera. Whilst walking didn't happen. And I carried around a purse that begged to be left on a counter top.

So, for the moment, I'll be relying on my archived photos and the kindness of a stranger's camera (flickr). I'll also be writing a nice list for Santa.

Georgia and I already went back to visit him today. And I hope he comes early this year. I promise I'll be good. And I won't lose anything else. Ever. (I hope.)

1 comment:

  1. Oh my dear Tammy, I feel your pain as any mother feels when her daughter is hurting. Don't worry everything will be ok. It is just something that time takes to heal. Tools can always be replaced. Material things are not so important. The love Georgia showed when she knew you were hurting cannot be replaced. I love you!!!!!! Mom