Saturday, December 12, 2009

Part of My Mind Got Lost During the Move

My family has already heard this one, so if you're one of the clan you can come back another time.

The first Monday in our new home, I took the kids to their various schools to get registered so they could start bright and early the next day. It's so important to reestablish a routine as quickly as possible. The secretaries all suggested I take the kids the first day so they could find their classrooms. Sure, I thought, no problem.

And at first, it WAS no problem. I got the 12 year old off to junior high, handed her over to the counselor and the student assistant who would be escorting my daughter to make sure the locker worked, that she found all her classrooms, found the lunchroom, etc. No worries. I had plenty of time to go home, finish getting the younger ones ready and get them to school.

They had their backpacks, coats, shoes (this was before the snow hit) and I had the youngest already to be towed along behind. I got them out the door headed toward the van. I was the last out. I paused after I closed the door, thinking, "Did I lock the door?" I hadn't so I reached in and twisted that little locker-knob-thingey and then shut the door behind me. Locked up. Then I went to unlock the van. Keys not in my coat pocket. Okay, I put them in the fanny pack, so I check there. No. Keys not in the fanny pack.

Check BOTH coat pockets. Check pants pockets, oh wait, these are sweats, there are no pockets. Check fanny pack once again. School starts in 30 minutes minus and I don't have keys. My husband is an hour away on a military base that doesn't have cell phone coverage, at least not for OUR carrier, figures. I think, well, I have to call someone. I reach into the fanny pack for the cell phone. No cell phone. It must be with my keys.

So for 30 seconds I stand there stupified. My kids aren't on the bus route. They're going to have to start hoofing it the next day anyway. The school secretary will have a phone. "Okay, kids! We're walking to school! Let's move!"

I hold the three year old's hand most of the way, the rest of the way he is on my back as we half run/half walk that long mile to school. We got there just as the national anthem was playing over the P.A. system. Once I had them in their classes, I trudged to the office and with my biggest sheepiest grin, I announce to the secretarial staff, "Does anyone know if there is a locksmith here, or should I look one up in the next town?" I then had to explain my predicament.

D, the secretary that had helped me with forms the day before, said, "I saw you guys walking to school. I thought, 'How nice! What a nice mommy to walk her kids to school the first day!'" After digging out the local phonebook, a guy recommended a particular locksmith in the next town. I get the guy on the phone but it turns out that the number in the phone book ad is his home number, and through a slurred accent, tells me the number of the store. I dial that one and get a much more articulate man who says he'll send out his mobile guy immediately. I figured it took at least 20 minutes to drive out from where he was, so I guessed I could just get home to meet him. D insisted on giving my son and I a ride. She was so nice.

And her car door wasn't locked. Turns out one door to my van wasn't locked either. So we thanked D for the ride and we waited in the van for the locksmith to come. Wouldn't you know, he worked on the doorknob for a good 15 minutes and couldn't get the thing to open? I thought, "Well, I least I know that no burglar is getting in that door short of an axe." I suggested the back door might be just a little more compliant. (You can see daylight through the chewed up weather stripping.) It took him a few tries, but he finally got through there. I sent my son in to get warm and then went outside to pay the guy.

I have since triple checked my person before going out since then. And once I get my bread recipe reconfigured for the lower humidity and air pressure, the secretaries at the school are going to get a fresh loaf (or two) and some honey to go with them.

I love my new town.

5 comments:

Nikia, May and da kids said...

There are still good Samaritans about. In the smaller towns and neighborhoods, people are still good to each because you will most likely see alot of each other. Fresh bread is always a nice gift.

Trust me if my hair wasn't so thick and outrageously big (think 80's with NO mousse, lol), I wouldn't want to calm it down.

Also, thank you for your kind words. We all have our trials and have tests of our faith. Thank you for being one of those good people.

May

Pam said...

I'm sooooo glad that you like your new home. It would have been hard to know that you didn't like it.
We're just small town people at heart, aren't we? I love driving down the street waving at everyone.
Soon you'll know enough people to do that too. Nothing like it.

Sarah Bishop Jackson said...

You will definitely have to talk to Ryan and Stephanie. They have a similar story just after moving into their home a couple of weeks ago. It was on a Sunday and I will tell you this much.....Ryan had to get a ride with the locksmith guy up to Ryan's and Stephanie's old ward as they were giving their "exit" talk and Stephanie had taken one car and left already. This story has so many twists and turns that you will have to talk to them to get the whole side-splitting story.

Lourie said...

God sends us angels when we need them most. You were in definite need. I would have hyper-ventilated and yelled, kicked and screamed.

T&JCrawford said...

Wow!