Hey people! It’s been a hot minute since my last blog post- and by minute I mean 21 days. In hind sight I probably should have spread my blogs out a week at a time because you guys are supes high maintenance and expecting me to blog every couple of days. Well guess what… I’VE BEEN TOO BUSY. You know what I’ve been too busy doing? Spending the evenings “deep cleaning” corners of my house in search of my most prized possession. You heard it here first, readers. I lost my wedding ring. When I say wedding ring I really mean engagement ring PLUS wedding band, because when we got married we both thought “hmm if we solder these rings together, it will decrease the chance of losing one of them.” COOL.
Let me first start out by explaining our marriage. Barry and I are both ADD. The kind of ADD where every teacher at every parent teacher conference would say things like “he’s very sweet, but I think he needs hearing aids.” or “she’s smart, but a little too ‘social’.” Being a teacher, I now realize that when you are being described as lively, energetic, or social it really means “I’m not legally allowed to diagnose you with ADD, but you have the attention span of a baby frog.” Are you understanding what I’m saying here? Barry and I have always been disorganized, scatter brained, and forgetful. The type of people that hear “oh, bless your heart!” much too often. Today I found a pickle jar in our closet. One time we found my glasses in the refrigerator. One time Barry threw our only set of car keys in the trash in San Antonio. One time I had to get a $200 tow when my keys went missing after five minutes at a friend’s house. Last week I opened one of Barry’s bathroom drawers and found a single flip flop. Just one.
Poor Owen doesn’t stand a chance. Oh, bless his heart.
I say all that to say, It is not unusual for either of us to “misplace” items. In fact, I have never had a single solitary day of my life where I had all my ducks in a row. But friends, in all of my losing, I have never ever EVER lost my wedding ring. This was way different. I don’t even take it off to shower, because baby frogs lose wedding rings with little effort.
So let’s begin the story of the missing wedding ring…
On this particular day I was probably doing something very important like catching up on all my trashy reality shows and drinking my fourth cup of tepid coffee. I had plans to go to a LuLa Roe party with April in the afternoon, so I knew I needed to spend Owen’s nap time wisely and finally wash my hair. I don’t know why, but I play with fire during EVERY one of Owen’s naps. Instead of immediately showering and getting ready for the day, every single piece of my soul tells me to lay on my bed and scroll through my phone. Don’t unload the dishwasher, Afton. You need to emotionally invest in Chelsea Houska’s dream proposal on Teen Mom. You don’t REALLY need to brush your teeth until right before Barry gets home…because right now is the time to learn how to contour your face using masking tape and a spoon. I CAN’T MANAGE MY LIFE DURING NAP TIME. This happens literally every day of my life. Then when I’m finally ready to shower I hear him crying on the monitor as I’m undressing. Damn you, frog brain. You win again.
So anyway, that day was no different. As I was quietly sobbing over Teresa Guidice’s prison home coming, Owen started screaming on the monitor. NOOOOO! I had the equivalent of day 4 camp hair. I ran into the bathroom realizing how soon I needed to be ready and basically sprayed an entire bottle of dry shampoo in my hair. I quickly realized that I had accidentally sprayed an entire bottle of dry conditioner. Side note: who the HELL wants or needs dry conditioner? What is dry conditioner? And did I black out and forget how to read when I bought this FOUR days ago at Sephora? Whatever. Anyway my hair was even more greasy looking so I thought, “Okay think fast….. what was your go-to hair in junior high when you woke up late…. SCRUNCH IT!” So obviously it made the most sense to get my hair wet in the sink (Owen is still screaming) and glob on some of Barry’s crunchy hair gel. Cute. My hands got really sticky so this is the moment when I took off my ring. At this point Owen was screaming “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!” “MA!” “MOM!” so I went ahead and got him out of his crib, rushed back into the bathroom, and finished my adorable hair styling. I went to grab a towel and pat dry my crunchy curls and I vividly remember hearing a clinking of something falling on the floor while Owen was at my feet playing with bandaids and tampons (parenting 101). “Hmm what was that?” I thought.
So we left and went to the party and came back and everything was fine and dandy until the next day when I realized I wasn’t wearing my ring. And so begins the frantic search. It started with a tearful deep clean of the bathroom and our bedroom. Nothing. I then looked in our closet and our laundry, thinking maybe it was in that towel that I used when it fell. Nothing. We then moved to each room in our house checking all the furniture crevices, under the furniture, in each cabinet… nothing. I checked Owen’s hidey spots and found a disturbing amount of spatulas, but no ring. I was devastated. While I was crying and apologizing to Barry, he said “Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you at all. I just think next time we won’t get you a real diamond.” …WAIT….WHAT?.. SOUNDS PRETTY MAD TO ME!
So after two days of searching the house, I decided to put on some gloves and go through the past 4 days of rotting garbage. Guys…. maggots. I can’t talk about it.
The next day I had the brilliant idea of just spending a while watching Owen- seeing how his brain worked… maybe he would lead me to the ring? In only two minutes I watched him climb up on our mud bench, open Barry’s workout bag, take out his wallet, dip it in Sadie’s water bowl, and bury it in the laundry basket. WHAT. THE. HELL???? Who is this person??? I also watched him sun his face for a while like it was no biggie.
So then Barry said, “Oh I’ve got it! We can give him MY ring and see what he does with it.” …..Desperate times, man. Owen took Barry’s ring, poked it in his palm for a second, then immediately put it in his mouth to swallow. Thankfully, Barry grabbed it in the back of his throat before he actually ate it. Crap. We were just certain that he had picked up my ring and swallowed it. This meant my ring could possibly be in one of his poopy diapers. THIS IS PARENTHOOD, GUYS. This is our reality right now.
I pitched it to Barry like this: Okay, what if somebody said, “Barry, I will give you $6,000 if you go through your son’s poopy diapers.” Would you do it then???
To which he said, “Um. Definitely not. Because that person would really have to say, “Barry, I just took $6,000 from you. If you go through 20 pounds of human feces with your hands, you MIGHT find it and then you can have the $6,000 I just took from you back.”
…..Oh. So with MUCH persuasion, Barry agreed to go through FIVE DAYS worth of poopy diapers with me on the back porch. We went in with our game faces on. We had a system where we held our breath, squished through the diapers, and threw the open, poopy diapers into a large cardboard box. After 20 minutes of this, no ring, and five diaper genie bags later, Barry quickly realized that we had made a grave mistake. This extra large cardboard box was in fact too big to fit into the garbage. So obviously the only thing that made sense was for me to hold a plastic garbage bag open, and for Barry to lift the cardboard box and dump all the diapers effortlessly into the open bag. Smart. So anyway, five of the 50 poopy diapers landed in the bag- the rest on my forearms, feet, and back porch.
Jesus, be near.
The next day we decided that the ring was most likely lodged inside our son’s intestines. Everything that I read said that it was no biggie when a child swallowed a ring, except for when the ring was a sharp diamond. This really freaked me out, so I called his pediatrician, and she suggested getting an X-ray. Uggggggh. It seemed a little extreme to be making an appointment to expose our baby to an X-ray if we weren’t even sure if he ate it in the first place. “I’ve got it!” Barry said, sounding very relieved and sure of himself. “I’m just going to Amazon Prime a $40.00 metal detector and we can just wave it over his torso.” ….. Soooo…… we got an X-ray. No ring, but it sure gave all of the staff a good chuckle. Especially since we all lost Owen TWICE during the appointment. “Bless your heart,” the doctor said sympathetically.
So here we are…. week 3 of no wedding ring. Maybe it’s God’s way of saying “since you’re so obsessed with teen mom, how about I make you feel like one every time you’re out running errands with Owen.”
I’m not as upset about it anymore, because as cheesy as it sounds, I am realizing that the promise is much more important than the diamond. So here’s to marriage, here’s to ‘for better or for worse’, and here’s to one day hopefully stumbling across my wedding ring (as well as countless other valuable items that my toddler has been hoarding).