Tiny Miracles

By 12:29 a.m. yesterday morning, I'd already been woken up by all three kids. Actually, Owen and Emery had woken me up, and then I ran into Avery on the way back to bed and she scared the bejesus out of me. All was fine until 3:30 a.m. I had been vaguely aware of Owen crawling into our bed, but while he kicks Alan, I barely notice him. So 3:30 hit and Emery was crying so I went in to check on her. The back of my shirt felt wet, so I thought I must have been sweating a lot as I slept. It wasn't until I got back to bed that I realized it wasn't sweat at all. What clued me in was a giant puddle of ice cold pee all over my bed. Emery was still crying as Alan was returning Owen to his own bed and I vaguely remember saying something like, "Why does life suck so bad?"

We dealt with the urine-soaked bed and managed to make it until our alarm went off without the kids needing more assistance or spraying us with more bodily fluids. We even managed to hit snooze. And then Avery came in, mad that it wasn't Friday.

So we handled the morning routine, and I got the kids all off to school and got home to work for an hour or so before I had to head out to pick up Owen. Parent teacher conferences have ensured four half-days of school in a row. And when a "full day" is three hours, well, the half day means I'm spinning around to pick him up as soon as I drop him off.

After we picked up Avery from school later that afternoon, I decided we'd go to Michael's crafts because I needed a zipper to fix Em's winter coat and I needed paint for a project I've been needing to do since September. So off we go to Michael's. Owen brought his giraffe lovey along for the trip. I warned him, really I did. But when someone says "...but he's my best friend..." you stupidly give in on occasion.

Giraffee. The one, the only.

Let me back up. We went on vacation this summer to Newport and Boston. Alan and I aren't sentimental about a lot of things --- we're not "stuff" people, we don't buy each other fancy gifts (except for the occasional 10th anniversary ring, #omgisnthethesweetest?). But when it came time to check out of the Great Wolf Lodge and we discovered our umbrella stroller was missing, we were bummed. It's just a stroller --- we bought it for $15. But we felt like we were leaving a man behind. We knew where and when we'd seen it last and couldn't fathom how it got left somewhere. So as we were about to drive off, I walked the property in a quick search. I checked lost and found and filed a report, knowing it was probably a lost cause and not worth the shipping anyway. But we felt defeated.

I later got a call from the security officer and lo and behold, they had found it. Nowhere near where we had left it, but I can't even tell you how happy I was when it landed on our doorstep. Ridiculous, right? Sentimental over a stroller.

So, Giraffee. Owen's giraffe lovey. He's had it since he was a newborn and he's slept with it ever since he turned one. He would rub its little ears to his nose as he was drifting off to sleep and it's been his security pal for a long time. He's left it outside and I've gone out to the sandbox to find it at bedtime. He's left it out front, in a tricycle storage compartment and I've tracked it down. We've gotten damn good at finding the thing --- trapped in the Bat Cave elevator; stuffed in the bottom of the Lego bin. I can feel around in the dark and know the instant my hand bumps into it that I've found Giraffee.

Giraffee, as much loved as he is, rarely leaves home. He'll bring it in the car occasionally, but we don't let him take it in anywhere. We've had a couple of close calls, but Alan and I are vigilant: Giraffee must stay safe. Giraffee must stay in the car. But this day, Giraffee slipped by me. Giraffee made it into Michael's.

We bumbled around the store, getting what we came for and a few things we didn't. Herding ourselves around a craft store is like herding bulls in a china shop. Or trying to direct tornadoes. We got to checkout and I had two packages of buttons that I didn't put in the cart, so I was telling the store clerk that I was glad that at least he didn't put them in his pockets when I heard Owen say, "Where's Giraffee?"

I had a panicked, physical reaction.

MAN OVERBOARD.

First, the basics: Did you have Giraffee? Did you really bring him into the store?

Owen (hopeful): Maybe he's in the car...

Logic: That is not a possibility when you brought him in the store!!

Avery is certain Giraffee is in the store. She holds her hands out, like, "wait, I'm thinking," and says "I know where Giraffee is! I'm remembering where he put him! I think by the buttons..."

I breathe a momentary sigh of relief, but I know that is only half the battle: We must actually get Giraffee back into Owen's hands.

Owen knows this is serious.

We retrace our steps, me, glancing at the Christmas decorations that we had been looking at to make sure it wasn't hiding among "Joy" and "Noel" signs. We get back to the zippers and Avery points to a shelf: "There. It was there."

The shelf was empty.

I take a deep breath. I'm thinking. Store manager. Lost and found. Retracing steps. WE WILL FIND GIRAFFEE. NO GIRAFFE LEFT BEHIND. As I'm thinking, Avery is putting it into words, out into the world.

"HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BROTHER'S GIRAFFE LOVEY." Arms spread out as they were when she had her epiphany at the checkout. A woman down the aisle says, "Oh, did you lose your animal?" and I'm about to tell Avery that we need to keep retracing our steps when an older lady turns the corner from the next aisle. She's holding Giraffee.

I almost hugged her. Instead, I thanked her profusely as I explained that it wasn't the baby's but it was Owen's and it would have been tragic had we lost it. She hadn't known what it was when she found it --- and I don't know whether it was on a shelf or if she found it on the floor --- but one thing is for certain: this lady was a miracle. A saint. Saint Michael's. I love her dearly. I want to be friends with her.

Disaster averted, we head to Target. Let's press our luck right? Just kidding --- Giraffee stayed in the van and we went in to buy the one thing I needed --- sunglasses, because I'd found mine face down on the kitchen floor with a scratch on them. So we get sunglasses first thing, then grapes and cleaning supplies and body wash and a new coffee pot. Then we get to checkout. I pull out my credit card. Where are the sunglasses? The conveyor belt was sunglasses-less. The one thing I went in for.


Then I get home, and try to fix the zipper. After doing a victory dance around the house because I'm so awesome, I can fix zippers, I discover that --- womp womp --- I am not a zipper fixer. And Emery needs a winter coat ASAP because they take morning strolls at school. And it's 9 p.m. So off to Kohl's I go. I get the coat. I try on boots where I discover that I'm now officially so old that I'm like "hell to the no I will not wear boots that aren't super comfortable" (but not too old to say something like "hell to the no"). And then I found $10 in the parking lot.

That $10 was not a storytelling trick to redeem my story, Nikki, although it has gone off the rails. But to say: Some days start with pee puddles, end with exhaustion, and have tiny miracles sprinkled throughout.