I could probably find the kitchen sink if I looked hard enough

So I lost my wallet.

Not my purse, just my wallet.  And I turned my house upside down looking for it.  Here's the funny thing- my house was actually clean from top to bottom, so it wasn't hiding under piles of shoes, backpacks, dirty clothes or anything else that piles up at my house.

And unlike the other day when my nine year old thought it would be funny to hide the car keys, throwing me into a tearful panic, and leaving me no option except to call the school in desperation, hoping against hope that she had seen the keys when she cleaned the basement, (Do you have any idea what an inept mom I felt like calling the elementary school to talk to my third grader to ask if she'd seen my keys?  Yeah, it was a special motherhood moment.  Except then she had seen them, and had HID THEM, and I felt all kinds of vindicated!) neither one of my girls had seen my wallet.

And then I found it.  Want to hear the bad part?  It was in my purse.  Right where it belongs. 

Want to know why I couldn't find it?

Because it was buried amongst:

~Approximately 40 coupons.  (Someday, I'm determined I'm going to save real, live money using coupons.  It would probably help if I actually removed them from of my purse...)

~3 diapers.  (Yes, they were clean.)

~Two grocery store receipts.

~One brand new pair of toddler socks.  (I don't think I even remember buying those, let alone stashing them in my purse...)

~One small, plastic, inflatable ball.  (Don't knock it.  It was given to Max once when we had Ian in the clinic to be suctioned.  That little ball has entertained all of us at many a doctor visit.)

~Three McDonald's Happy Meal toys.  (I have no idea how those got in there.  Honest.)

~An unactivated Gymboree frequent customer card.

~One matchbox car

~4 Jolly Ranchers.  (How long have those been in there?)

~One of Max's t-shirts.  (If I looked long enough, I probably could have found the rest of his wardrobe!)

and here's the kicker:

~A cord and sensor to a pulse-ox machine. 

There's actually a story behind that one.  Last time we were at the hospital with Max, the very nice Respiratory Therapist, (who I now know by name and who recognized us when we saw her around town last weekend,) offered to let us keep the pulse-ox cord and the attatched sensor.  I looked at her strangely until she mentioned that they would just have to throw it away if we didn't take it with us, and if we brought it with us the next time we were in the hospital, it would save us about $60 or so. 

That's right, folks, all of our hospitalizations from now on will be BYOPOE: Bring Your Own Pulse Ox  Equpment  They might get away with charging us obscene amounts of money just for breathing air in the ER, they might bill our insurance $5 for every pediatric dose of Advil, but we're one step ahead of them.  We're bring our own disposable medical supplies! That's us.  Beating the system every way we can. 

(And how ridiculous is it that I'm actually saving it, because knowing us, it will probably end up saving us money in the not-too-distant future! I can't wait to see the look on the Doctor's face when he or she starts to hook up whichever child is in crisis, and I make them wait while I rummage through my magic purse and produce my own cord.  It will be very funny.  Or at least it is in my head.)

I bet you're jealous that you don't have any major medical equipment in your purse.

And I bet you're thinking I should clean out my purse.  You're probably right.