Now at first glance, I have the appearance of being the smart one in my family. My report cards were perfect, my book smarts were stellar, and I've worked at a "think tank" (what's that?). But if you ask any of my sisters, they'll tell you that I'm the most likely sister to have a major mental brain lapse. And when it happens, it's bad:
Two nights ago, Mike and I were sitting on the couch discussing finances, when Mike started playing with his wedding band.
"Dink, donk, dink"!
Next thing we know, the ring had launched itself behind the couch and become wedged between the sofa and our kitchen island. (Yes, our couch backs up to our kitchen. Small living space!) Mike and I looked at each other: "Oops!" Mike was so distraught, in fact, he decided to wait until the next day to look for it. Feel the love.
|Scene of the crime|
"I forgot to look for my ring last night after it fell behind the couch. Would you mind looking if you have time, and if you find it, could you please bring it to dinner tonight? Thanks!"
So being the super helpful wife that I am, I moved the couch and island, got down on my hands and knees, and found that little sucker. Wa-la! My precious!
Wait. Shoot. What do I do with it now? I knew that putting it in my pocket or in a bag would be an immediate recipe for disaster. So, genius that I am, I put it on my thumb. It slipped right on. A little too easily I should say. But I just couldn't think of a better spot. Things are always safer attached to my body... right?
Next thing I know, it's time to head out the door for dinner. Jackets and shoes are thrown on, food for Bella is packed, and we are just about to rush out the door, when of course, I realize the ring has gone missing! My thumb is naked! I immediately feel stupid, frustrated, dumb, mad at Mike (He should have known better than to ask me to bring it!), and kind of crazy. How did I not feel that thing slide off my finger?!
But it's too late. I have to go. I jump in the car, pick up Mike, and explain to him how my successful search and rescue mission turned in to an epic failure. The ring was lost. Our marriage was doomed.
Well, we made it through dinner, and on the way home Mike did the regular run of the mill Q&A session. No, I did not throw it in the trash. No, it's not just sitting in my pocket. No. No. And no!
Gosh, I feel stupid. And mad. At me. At you. At the world.
We're through the door, and I'm immediately getting Bella ready for bed. Bottle. Check. Clothes off. Check. Diaper change.
Stop that. Oh my gosh!
The diaper is open for only a second, and I close it so fast I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. No, Bella had not eaten the ring and done some number on it that quickly. Oh no. Yours truly had actually wrapped her husband's ring up in the diaper before they left for dinner. Major mental brain lapse (I told you.)! And there it was. Still hanging out... in a soaked diaper... having traveled with Bella's rump for the past few hours. I stand there, trying to process how in the world I managed to place my husband's ring- the symbol of his love and commitment- in my child's diaper!
Bella sees my stunned face and looks at me like there must be a monster in her diaper. Mike rushes in. I can hardly get the words out. I just usher him over with my hand and let him take a peak. He's speechless. We remove the diaper and just stare at the contents.
To help us commemorate the moment, Bella wets the changing table. Then our Pandora Christmas station starts playing the Hallelujah Chorus, no joke. And then Bella starts wailing, of course. And finally, the laughter begins to set in. I'm convinced we've been cast in a sitcom. Where's the hidden camera?
To conclude this "I Love Lucy" episode, I'd like to assure everyone that Mike's ring received a thorough washing. I've also apologized to it. It may never let Mike hold hands with me again... well, at least his left hand. But I understand.
These things just take some time.