Last Wednesday I picked up the boys from school and on our way home, as we drove over the William Powell bridge with its breathtaking views of the Bay of Biscayne, Fearless called out “Look Mami! Sailboats.”

And there they were: huge, magnificent, sailboats.  There were at least ten of them and I thought it was a movie shoot because they really looked that gorgeous on a perfectly sunny Miami winter afternoon.  I told the boys “let’s stop and smell the roses,” as we had a couple of minutes to spare.  They didn’t understand and I had to explain that though we would not be smelling roses, the saying meant we would stop our busy day to simply enjoy something beautiful.

At the base of the bridge, we parked the car where a piece of an old bridge was converted into a fishing pier.  Dreamer ran off to the pier to see the boats who at this rate were going to be gone before we got out of the car.  “Hurry Mami! You need to take the picture.”  I grabbed my phone and hurried.  Fearless stayed behind inside the car.  I couldn’t leave him there, so I yelled something or other and he finally made it out to join us.  By the time I could snap the picture the moment was all but gone, and the image shows mere crumbs of the beauties we saw from the bridge.

I argued with the boys a bit.  It’s a phase we are going through and I could write a book about that: I say something they do something else.  In total, we must have been on the pier for less than ten minutes before we were once again driving. When we arrived I reached for my purse.

“Where is my purse?”Now, you may not know this about me but if my head were not attached to my body I might lose it.  I constantly misplace keys, wallets, and phones.  It bothers my husband to no end “if only you put things back where they belong you won’t lose them” he says.  “If only I remembered to put things back where they belong …” I reply leaving a lingering pause after my reply.  Plus, to tell me what I should do when I am frantically looking for something because of something I didn’t do isn’t all that helpful.

“OMG.  This time I did it, I finally lost it.”  I thought back and remembered exactly the last time I saw my purse.  It was at the kids’ school, and I schlepped back in traffic to go check.  I couldn’t find the purse there, or anywhere around there, and no one had seen it.  I checked my car for the hundredth time…. nothing.  It was gone. Vanished.

My best guess is that when I parked the car at the pier, I took my phone out of the purse and probably left it laying there in plain view.  As Fearless would not get out of the car, there is a good chance I didn’t lock it.  So all that was missing was a big flashing neon sign written “ROB ME! MY PURSE IS RIGHT HERE AND THE CAR IS OPEN” 

I’ve had “ROB ME” moments in the past.  Once, or twice, I’ve left the back door of my minivan open. Not unlocked, wide open. It’s my only complain about my VW Routan I can press the lock button and it will beep, even if the sliding back side door is not closed.   So there have been times where I put on the alarm and left thinking my car was locked only to return hours later to a car with the entire side door slid open.

Or there was a frazzled episode at a Big Lots in Christmas.  I was trying to look for cookie tins, the boys were out of control, and I placed my phone and my keys for one second on a shelf while I looked on the shelf underneath for something.  I then forgot all about it and went about shopping for another hour.  It was only when I got to the car, with a cart full of seasonal stuff and two hungry boys that I realized what had transpired.  Luckily someone was in the Christmas spirit, found my phone and keys and returned it to the manager.  So this time, as I stopped to watch the sailboats, luck finally called my number.

Cancelling credit cards, getting new keys, changing the locks, all of that was a hassle.  However what bothered me the most was not knowing.  Did I leave it somewhere or was it stolen?  The end result was the same: my purse was gone.  But in a way it felt better believing it was stolen where I was a victim instead of a frazzled mom who simply lost my bag.

But maybe I am that frazzled mom because I don’t take moments like that more often.  A couple of minutes to stop and smell the roses: to delight in my kids laughter, feel the warmth of a beautiful sunrise, or listen to a touching song.  Sometimes I feel like all I do is play catch-up to an ever growing “to-do” list.

“If you want peace above all else you will have peace,”  my mentor tells me.  If I wanted pure peace then I could live in that space, but I don’t think I would be able to do everything I want to do or even everything I think is important to do.  I would need to say “no” more often than I already do and sacrifice many opportunities.  So I guess what I really want is relative peace in a fulfilled life.  A life where I am frazzled because I am juggling so many wonderful things; yet not too frazzled to forget to lock the car when I stop to smell the roses.