That about sums it up

“Today was the best day ever!” she announced when I picked her up after school.  She described how they learned to juggle during school and asked if I’d take her to the event at 6 p.m.

Wait.  What?  I may be a little distracted these days, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen any flier about an event.

She didn’t know what it was called but she knew that last year her dad took her and they brought back some toys (aka “fitness” equipment).  Oh yeah.  That.

I really did not want to go.  I’m so over after-school events.  That’s what happens when you space your children far apart.  If you did something at school ten years ago, the chances are you don’t want to do it again now.  Sorry, Youngest Child.

But I took her because of the guilt I am a good mom.

Fortunately, she overlooked the bedlam of the event and zeroed in on what she wanted.  And what she wanted was a set of juggling balls.

She picked out a purple ball, a blue ball and a green ball.  I paid and we went home.

I actually dropped her off at home in the care of her older brothers and went to my mom’s house to help her pack.  My phone rang while I was up to my elbows in kitchenware and packing paper.

My daughter was crying.

She’d lost a juggling ball in the ivy.

Oh, have I mentioned the ivy?  The English ivy was planted by the former and (one would assume) well-meaning owners of this house.  The ivy has threatened to overtake the house at times.  (Now we have an excellent yard crew who tames it.)

Anyway, my daughter and her  little buddy were throwing the juggling balls back and forth and the ball flew into the ivy and she couldn’t find it.

I promised to find the purple juggling ball as soon as I got home.

Now, I should know better than to make a promise like, but I was up to my elbows in packing paper and I really wanted to hang up the phone.

I returned home just as dusk was falling. I asked her to show me where she last saw the ball.

I began a hand search of the ivy, systematically separating the ivy in a grid search.

That’s when I found . . . the Fiskar shears:

They were new the last time I saw them.

They are rusty now.

A few more desperate minutes passed.  Then I found . . . the purple juggling ball.

It was a miracle.

Almost as amazing as the moment at Costco the other day when my receipt totaled $150 exactly.

I know.  I am a rock star.