When I was about 7 or 8 years old, my grandmother gave me a beautiful porcelain doll for Christmas. She was old-fashioned looking, with a brown straw hat, a tan and brown calico pinafore, silver blond hair and the daintiest features painted on her face.
I loved her so much I insisted on taking her everywhere with me for a while. One day, while at the mall with my mom, I realized her hat was missing. I was incredibly upset. I cried and cried as we retraced our steps through the mall. I was flooded with relief when I saw that someone had hung the hat on a sales sign.
Another time, when I was in 4th grade, I had a beautiful bracelet I had gotten from a vendor on the side of the road while driving through Arizona. It was purple rocks with sliver links and it was gorgeous. I treated it as if it were worth thousands of dollars, never wearing it to school and storing it in my locked jewelry box at all times.
Well, one day, I decided to take it to school for show and tell. I must have dropped it while walking to school, because I realized it wasn't there at lunchtime. I became quite hysterical and walked back home, carefully looking in every nook and cranny, and not finding it. Finally I ran screaming into my house (did I mention I was hysterical?) only to find that my mom wasn't home. But, a neighbor that had seen and heard me called and offered to help me. Unfortunately, that bracelet was never found and in all my drives through Arizona since I have been tempted to stop and buy one, but Joel never lets me.
I have lost many, many things since the hat and the bracelet. Some of them I have found, some remain missing to this day. One thing has never changed, though. I freak out whenever something is gone. It has taken me years to come to the realization that things can always be replaced (most of the time anyway) and when something goes missing it is never the life altering event I make it out to be. At least, I understand that it is never a big deal...but I still act like it's the worst thing that ever happened to me.
We just returned from spending a lovely Christmas in Seattle with my brother and his family. My parents and another brother and us all went up and had a wonderful time together. On Christmas morning we discovered that the girls' suitcase was gone. I was freaking out inside, but trying not to show it as airports and neighbors back home were called to see if it could be found. Well it was. It had been left at the Seattle airport because we all had so much luggage we just missed that one. All was right with the world, and the only real disaster that came from that was Chloe's moment of screaming because she had to wear her cousin's hot wheel underwear.
The trip home was interesting, to say the least. We were originally scheduled to fly through Denver, but were diverted in the end through LA because of the storms there. They got us on the LA flight at the very last second, and when I put Sophia's car seat by the door to be loaded on the plane, apparently nobody put it on.
We discovered it was missing in LA when it never came off the plane. I freaked out, as usual. I mean, we could lose anything, but the whole reason I don't check carseats is because I don't want to lose them. They are the most important baggage in my mind (besides the baby herself, that is). We made phone calls and never really got anywhere. When we arrived in Salt Lake we put a claim for it, but I am skeptical they will ever find it. If they do, they'll ship it to us, if they don't they'll buy us a new one. They loaned us one that must be about 10 years old to use in the mean time. I said to heck with that and we are using my nephew's seat that he just grew out of.
In the end, it all works out. But still, I was so upset (and still am) that I can't even think rationally. But, life goes on. At least, I hope it will go on without the adorable car seat I bought for Sophia. Please tell me it does.