Missing Items Returned

I was always amazed when I’d hear about those older couples who had been married for decades, and when one of them died (typically the man) the woman would find herself smack dab in the midst of the 21st century without knowing how to do something like write a check. How on earth could someone let that happen? Needless to say, I’m free and clear of such a fate, right?

Well, the sad reality is that there are some things Mark just does and I steer clear of, and they’ve started to accumulate in our years together. At first it was driving places. I’d just zone out on the way, and years into visiting a friend in another town I’d realize when I was heading there alone that I had no idea how to get there. And all the tech stuff–it goes without saying that Mark sets up every computer, wireless network, etc. in our world. (Etc. in this instance is a placeholder for all the other techie things that I don’t even know how to refer to by name). Mark also pays all our bills online and I have sadly never done this, nor even-sadlier do I know how to. (Let it be known that he’s willing to show me, but we’ve never gotten around to it.) Scary as it is, I fear the can’t-write-a-check syndrome is not out of the realm of possibility for me. Unless I do something about it.

So yesterday when I went out to buy Kate a new high chair, I decided to take things into my own hands. Well, I actually didn’t set out with that intention, it kind of buillt up slowly. First, I decided to carry the large and heavy box from the car into the house *myself.* (Mark, the family sherpa, was at work, and my excitement over the high chair couldn’t be contained until 6:30.) I left it in the front entryway and lamented how nice it would be if only it was assembled and ready to use. Then, like a lightening bolt, the wild idea came to me: I could assemble it myself.

The instruction manual had to be written for the lowest denomenator of American intelligence, right? And sure enough, by carefully plodding away step after step, with Kate rolling around on the floor below me, I did it! Steps 1-19 completed with nary a hitch. My only concern was that either a screw was missing, or I somehow dropped it. As I searched for it on the floor I envisioned it puncturing my sweet baby’s small intestine on it’s way through her system. I couldn’t see it anywhere, so I just decided Fisher-Price just sold me one screw short.

Late last night when I took off my favorite super-big Billabong khaki shorts, I emptied my pockets of various things, and there she be–the missing screw! Huzzah! No middle-of-the-night ER visits once it made it’s way to Miss Kate’s adorable duodenum.

Around 1:45AM (Who am I kidding? It was 1:43. New parents know these things.), Kate beckoned for her once-nightly snack. When I reached into her crib to lift her out, I felt a hard thing inside her PJs. It startled me a bit more awake and I felt it again. Ends up it was one of her plastic stacking cups, the smallest purple one. Seems I’d sealed it up in her PJs when I was getting her dressed for bed after her bath. I know I was kind of rushing, but sheesh. When I’d cleaned up the bathroom earlier that night I’d wondered where that one had gone. Mystery solved.