How a Wallet is Like a Teenager: Friday’s “What the frak?” Moment

Friday’s “What the frak…?” moment (WTFM) is brought to you by………..

How my wallet acts like a teenager: It doesn’t like me. It hides from me. It ran away last week, and only through a miracle (and a good Samaritan) found its way back to me.


My family once again takes advantage of  “Kids Eat Free” at our favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, Serrano’s. Lil Diva, exhausted from The Cough, protests greatly and spends the majority of the meal walking outside with my husband. I pay the bill.


Lil Diva is still sick which means no Zumba class for me. The Tackler is off at Mother’s Day Out and she is a whining, cranky fusspot. I grab the stroller and take  her outside, for some reason bringing my wallet along. Instead of heading to the park, we stroll around the block, meeting up with our neighbor.

It is garbage day.

Soon, all the signs of “Mommy, I’m exhausted because I haven’t slept well or taken a nap in four days” are in evidence and we return home for an early nap.

I spend two hours with her sleeping in my lap because I am desperate to have her rest. Frequent angry hacking fits wake her up, but I am able to soothe her cries and lull her back to sleep.


I’m still at home with a sick child and my 4 year old. I’m beyond exhausted. I sleep late, almost miss my hair appointment, and can’t find my wallet. I grab the check book instead.

We watched Tangled for the umpteenth time this week.

The Lil Diva finally napped two hours with only one wake up.

I wish I could join her.


I sleep in again, still worn out from the previous week. I haul The Tackler to swim lessons where he does a fabulous job. I return and do some writing while Lil Diva naps and the Tackler plays with CG.

I need to go to the grocery store, and hunt for my wallet, certain it simply hid between the seats of one of our cars, or was placed in a random spot during the week’s delirium when I cleared all counters for my cleaning ladies.

I search my office. Nothing.

I search my van. Nothing.

I search the kitchen. Nothing.

I search the bedroom. Nothing.

I search pant pockets. Nothing.

I open the front door to search my husband’s car. This note falls from the door frame:

Not what I was expecting to find, but it ceased my futile searching.

What the frak?

“Honey, I can stop searching for my wallet now. I know where it is. Sort of.”

I call the number, and sure enough, “Israel” (I think that was his name, he was hard to understand), has my wallet.

He works for the garbage company and found it lying in the street.


I figure out where he lives and we arrange to meet in a hour at a grocery store near his home.

I take The Tackler with me, as CG’s patience fled with his son’s continued Attacks on Sister paired with simultaneously refusing to listen.

The Tackler becomes An Angel, and behaves perfectly for me. He’s good in the car, rides in the cart, stays by me when out of the cart, and I reward him by browsing in the toy aisle, as Israel is about thirty minutes late.

He eventually shows up as I explain what aisle I’m in (all non perishable groceries are in my cart waiting for the wallet to show up). Everything appears to still be in place, and I thank him profusely.

The Tackler remains angelic as we check out, my relief at having my wallet back hard to contain.

I fly in a few weeks and need photo ID – Texas takes weeks to get you a replacement.

I’m sure he doesn’t read my blog, but I want to say thank you again, Israel – and to anyone else who has ever gone out of their way to return a purse or wallet to someone.

You saved me from having an even bigger “what the frak” moment.

The irony? The drama could have been completely avoided. I had to have been at home when he left the note, but my doorbell is broken. If you don’t knock loud, I won’t hear you over my children.

My daughter ripped off the note formerly attached to the doorbell explaining this.

Do you have “what the frak” story of losing or finding your or someone else’s wallet/purse/phone?

About Kelly K @ Dances with Chaos

Kelly K has learned the five steps to surviving of motherhood: 1) Don't get mad. Grab your camera. 2) Take a photograph. 3) Blog about it. 4) Laugh. 5) Repeat. She shares these tales at Dances with Chaos in order to preserve what tiny amount of sanity remains. You can also find her on her sister blog, Writing with Chaos ( sharing memoir and engaging in her true love: fiction writing. It's cheaper than therapy.
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5 Responses to How a Wallet is Like a Teenager: Friday’s “What the frak?” Moment

  1. Annie says:

    It always warms my heart to hear stories of good honest people! They are still out there!!

    I’ve lost my wallet many times but the funniest was when I thought I lost it and had it all along. Long story short – I was browsing mall sidewalk sales, speedy (then 1) was chewing on my wallet in the stroller. The mall was hectic, stressful, elbow to elbow people, and little 4-yr-old Princess kept wandering too far away from me. Worried that speedy would drop my wallet, I took it from him and shoved it in the pleats of the stroller’s sunshield while simultaneously chasing Princess. I forgot I shoved the wallet there and then went into a panic thinking Speedy had dropped it. I searched that entire mall for over an hour and told every customer service person I knew. I found the wallet when I got home – hours later. I was so mad at myself. Talk about WTFrak!

  2. John says:

    Oh, god – that’s a great story – so glad you got it. I often say that I feel less naked without clothes than I do without my phone, but I go CRAZY when I can’t find my wallet. That you got it back, with everything in there . . . wow. Yeah, that’s a pretty good guy you encountered.

  3. bobbijaye says:

    She doesn’t mention that her wallet is only about the size of a credit card and two or three times as thick. I keep telling her to get a bigger one… one that is less likely to be missed if it hits the ground. As it is, we go through the wallet drama at least twice a year.

    Hmm… maybe for Christmas…

    • CG says:

      She ditched that one for a “real” wallet. I am now the one with the mini wallet. But I don’t lose that often, just the contents.

  4. Bellymonster says:

    Well, phew! So glad that Israel was so honest – people are generally good, if we let them be, don’t you think?

    I lose my bank card about three times a year. Twice already this year, DH has found it in the bottom of the washing machine. Oops!

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