If ever there’s a good time to lose your wallet, a holiday weekend is not one of those times.

On Sunday, July 4th, I filled the car with gas. Thankfully I actually filled it, instead of just putting in $20 like I usually do. I didn’t know that in a few short hours I’d be two hours away from home with no way to access my money. I pulled away from the gas station, kids chattering happily, blissfully unaware that my wallet was rolling off the top of the car, bouncing off the pavement of our city’s main drag and thus scattering my life across the road.

I didn’t realize any of that until I got to my parents’ Farm, grabbed my purse to go hit a sale with my Mom and almost broke out in hives due to panic. I called FireDad, working a shift back home at the fire department. He went to the gas station, looked around and talked to the girls working inside. I called the gas station myself. FireDad then drove for awhile down the road we took out of town. No wallet. He then made his way to the police station to file a report.

Meanwhile, back at the Farm, I was in a state of high panic. The almost frothing at the mouth kind. On the one hand, it was pre-payday, so I wouldn’t lose a ton of money, and I knew that my bank would replace stolen funds. On the other hand, my very busy month is budgeted very closely, and I didn’t really have time to wait around for the bank to give me back any stolen money.

I called PNC, our bank, only to find that not only were all branches closed being that it was July 4th and a Sunday, but even their Card Services and Security offices were empty. 24/7 banking does not apply to the celebration of our Nation’s independence. Count that as a warning. I finally figured out how to unlink my debit card from my checking account online, though I maintain that they need a big box that says, “CARD STOLEN? CLICK HERE.” I had to search through various pages to figure it out. I canceled a few other accounts with relative ease (thank you, PayPal) and finally started to breathe.

Of course, this adventure ruined most of my 4th of July buzz.

I returned home on the 5th and went straight to the police department to finish off the report. I listed everything in my wallet, gave a description of it and signed the form. The wonderful, compassionate dispatcher told us a few things but, as I figured, stated that if the wallet hadn’t been returned or turned in yet, it was unlikely I’d ever see it again. I started making plans for Tuesday: get new driver’s license, visit the bank, get new library card. The list was endless.

On Monday evening, as I sat at the table working and FireDad looked up some information online, we heard a knock at the door. This doesn’t happen often as our friends usually know to call before they show up. I opened the door and gazed upon the hope for humanity: a man with my wallet.

He explained that he watched me pull out of the gas station and saw my wallet bounce and scatter. He ran after it, gathering up everything he could find. He then proceeded to drive to my house… except, remember, we weren’t there. FireDad was working, and I was on my way to Pennsylvania with the kids. But he came back again that day, two more times. Still no one home. Finally, he knocked on our door that evening, and we were home.

I almost cried.

The only things missing from my wallet (meaning that the gentleman didn’t find) were some unimportant(ish) cards in an overstuffed pocket: my library card (the only important one), CVS card, Rite Aid Wellness card and a Hallmark card. All easily replaceable and none that could do any harm to my credit. I’ll change my library card number when I head over today. The $20 that I had buried in some receipts? Still there. All my debit/credit cards? There. License? There. Change? There. Random things that I have in my wallet that no one knows the reasons behind? Yep. There.

I am so grateful.

I learned a few things from this adventure:

  • Gift Card Lab charges you $15 to replace a lost card. No, really.
  • Take all expired/unused/etc credit/debit cards out of your wallet.
  • Don’t ever have your Social Security Card in your wallet. I don’t. My Mom does. I looked at her like she was insane. So, really, this was her learning moment, not mine.
  • Don’t leave your wallet on top of the car and drive away.
  • The world ceases to exist, at least from a help perspective, on a holiday weekend.
  • Your family will make fun of you for the rest of your life if you do something of this nature.
  • More people have lost their wallets than you think, as I learned from twitter and Facebook.
  • Good people still exist in this world.

FireDad is incredulous, shocked that I got my wallet back. He said something about me being a lucky something-or-other, though he may have used more colorful words. I’m in shock as well. I thought I was being taught a lesson about not being an overly distracted, overly-multi-tasking mom. Instead, I was taught a lesson that there are still good, honest people in this world, right here in my very own city.

But, really, no more wallets on the roof. I promise.

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Oh, gosh. It’s so hard for me to keep a secret. It’s even harder for BigBrother to keep one but I’d like to say that we all made it through the week without spilling the beans. Or the candy, as it were. We took this idea from AlphaMom, originally found at Living Locurto, and made FireDad a super hero box. It’s filled with X-ray Vision Drops, Hero Juice, a Secret Identity Bar and other great little bits of awesomeness.

Hero Box

BigBrother and LittleBrother helped purchase everything, some of which came from Hobby Lobby, some of which came from Kroger. I also learned that you have to be eighteen to purchase spray glue. Yes, I got carded. Yes, I’m proud of that fact. The boys helped cut out the labels, printed on our snazzy Kodak printer. They also helped me glue the paper towel to my thumbnail. Win.

FireDad liked it.

Opening

He’s been nomming on some X-Ray Vision Drops (lemon drops) and shooting me suggestive glances for the past half hour. I’m deeply amused.

I attempted to get a good photo of FireDad with TheBrothers but it didn’t quite work.

NO!

Then again, I think that’s absolutely hilarious. It’s a keeper.

Happy Father’s Day.

Flag Day

I wanted to blog a cute story that exists in my family about today, Flag Day. I tried to, off and on, all day. I failed. All day. You see, the story involves my grandparents, as newlyweds. Young and in love. Not knowing what the future would hold but ready to face it all. It’s an adorable story. Really, it is.

Yesterday would have been their fifty-fourth anniversary. My grandfather died in January.

Today I spent the evening with my husband’s grandparents, married fifty-one years next month. I kind of needed it; the presence of loving grandparents. My heart broke all day yesterday for my grandmother, for our family. I expected that the feeling would lift today. Instead I remembered that it was Flag Day. The story came immediately to mind and, all over again, the tears fell.

Maybe next year I’ll tell you their story. This year, I miss him far too much.

Flag Day

I never understood why people add “happy” in front of the words “Memorial Day.” It’s more than a day off of work. It’s more than a day of picnics and barbecues and fun in the sun. Memorial Day was originally started three years after the Civil War ended by the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) as Decoration Day. They decorated the graves of those who died in the war with flowers. Not exactly a warm, fuzzy feeling kind of day.

I took a walk in our local cemetery the other day. I found some GAR star graves. I found graves from World War I, World War II, Vietnam and the Persian Gulf Wars. There are others; I just remember these. I thought of each family as I passed another little flag placed by each veteran’s grave. I thought of the family of Cpl. Matthew Wallace. I thought of my grandpa, finally reunited with his brother who was killed by a sniper in World War II. I thought of the countless others.

Northwood Cemetery, Cambridge, Ohio

I don’t care what your thoughts are on the current war. I don’t care what your thoughts are about the military in general. Today I honor those that gave their lives, something that I’m not particularly willing to do myself, so that we can have picnics at our leisure. So that we can rant about the government on our blogs. So that we can tuck our overtired children into bed on a Monday night after a long “holiday” weekend.

I will never be able to thank them for their ultimate sacrifice. I will never be able to repay their families for their loss. But, as always, we will strive to make sure my children understand why we go to a parade on Memorial Day morning and why we stay for the speech and the 21 gun salute afterward.

Northwood Cemetery, Cambridge, Ohio

We are grateful. And we remember you.

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