Two Sundays ago Bob, the girls, and I went with Bob's parents to OC to "shop" for shore house rentals for this summer. We stopped at Red Robin on the way home. Of course the little one wanted her food when our food came because even for babies there's just something to the power of suggestion. I ate after everybody else and I think this is what happened next: While I was finishing my Burnin' Love Burger
Fried Jalapeños! Heaven!
the check came and we went to tip the waitress. Bob didn't have any cash so I gave him my wallet so he could hunt through the mass of coupons, gift cards, and receipts for the cash I knew was floating around in there somewhere. I then took Maddie to the bathroom, returned her to the table, and went again by myself. Then we managed to leave my wallet on the table and left the restaurant. I say "we" because although Bob is pretty sure he was the one to actually do the leaving, I was the dumbass who didn't check to make sure her husband had put the wallet back after handing over her wallet to said husband in the first place. So it was a group effort in stupidity.
Monday morning I called the realtor's office and went to get out my credit card to put down a deposit on the the shore house and - HEY! Where's my wallet? Omigod, WHERE IS MY WALLET?
I cancelled my postpartum appointment scheduled for that day and instead Bob's mom drove me to the DMV so I could start the card replacement process, beginning with my driver's licence. I called that Red Robin (down in May's Landing, an hour or so away) not once, not twice, but three times to request that people look in various places for the wallet. Table, booth, under table, restroom, etc. All three people I talked to were patient and kind to the crazy person on the other line, and I'm sure they actually went and looked. Nope. Nadda. Dang. Gone were about $100 in birthday gift cards, two credit cards, insurance cards, and God knows what else. No cash though, thankfully. That all went to our lovely waitress Micah.
Flash forward a week: Sunday night the phone rings and the caller ID says, "Red Robin". Ok....
"Hi, this is Mike at Red Robin. I believe I have a personal possession of yours - "
"OMIGOD did you find my wallet? It's a brown wallet that zips!"
"That would be it."
Mike the Angel found it in the lost and found. He had gone to clean out the box because it was overflowing with coats (his theory was that the warmer weather had caused everybody to leave theirs behind, causing a pile-up in the lost and found box) and he found my wallet stuffed inside an Eagles hat at the bottom of pile of coats. He sent it to me via UPS. Everything intact, gift cards and all. Very kind, Mike. Not that Mike would have gotten much use out of the Lane Bryant card, but still. Thank you, I hope they move you up to daytime manager soon!
THE NEXT DAY:
I had the rescheduled postpartum appointment (you know, the one I missed because I had no insurance card or driver's licence the previous Monday?) for 11:30. Plans: have to drop the girls off by 11:00 to Bob's mom, Maddie needs a haircut, and I need a Spring/Fall weight jacket. So ofcourse we head to Burlington Coat Factory and get there at 9:30 right when they open, so we can get to the Kids Kuts down the pike by 10, when they open. Then it's off to Bob's mom's for child drop-off and BOOM, I hit my appointment with the day's errands already done. Except Monday was the day of the 15 minutes of torrential rain, remember? Right at 9:30, in our area.
Car Surfing! Yep, that's about how the parking lot looked.
We hit the BCF parking lot as it started, and instantly there were rivers ranging down the aisles of the parking lot. It's actually a few minutes before opening, so we sat and talk a few minutes, and I mentally planned the quickest method of getting all three of us out of the car and into the store in once piece. I got everybody out, Ellie was completely shielded, Maddie jacketed and hooded. I am another story; I of course did not bring a jacket because hello, I don't have a jacket, hence the trip! And apparently my car is an umbrella worm hole, because they literally disappear and reappear somewhere in my house or classroom. So no, I had no weather preparation whatsoever (and yes, I do still have the nerve to call myself a responsible adult). Now, there's a good layer of water all over the parking lot so I hoist Maddie up on my hip and push the stroller one-handed. We hit the vestibule and two of us are pretty dry. Guess which two. I wring out my hair, check everybody, and celebrate my two-out-of-three-ain't-bad victory against the rain. The I go to lock my car with my key remote. Nope. Not there. Not in stroller, not in pocket, not in purse...in car. Right out there, through the sheets of rain and wind. *Gulp*
This is one of those moments I'm sure I will look back on and smack my forehead at my young-mommy stupidity, but right now I honestly don't know which choice my future self with think I should have made: Do I leave the 3 year-old and the newborn in the dry vestibule, alone, but relatively in good view if I look backwards while I run through the pouring rain to get the keys myself? Or do I hoist the bigger one up, makes sure the little one is covered, and haul everybody back out in the mini-hurricane out there?
Maddie asked why we weren't going in the store and I quickly muttered something about leaving my keys in the car while I inspected the top of the stroller to see how waterproof the canopy was. A lady coming in (who was one of the responsible people who actually own a raincoat, boots, and an umbrella, AND remember to wear them when it rains) heard me and took pity on me and my now see-through shirt. She offered to go get the keys out of the car for me while I waited in the vestibule with the girls. God, bless that woman, wherever she is now. I hope she found what she wanted in BCF and got a good deal because she deserves all the designer discount clothing in the world.
So, not that I doubted it, but there was some fantastic evidence that there are good people in this world. Never stop doing good things for random strangers, because one of them might be a ditz like me, and we ditzes need you. Thank goodness for people who treat you the way they would want to be treated. Even when you act like a frickin' idiot.