I know some of you have heard of the Uterine Tracking Device, or UTD. Last week, Mary Alice over at From the Frontlines posted about this device (it goes by a couple of names, including the Uterine Locating Device, as she called it). My sister Ducky clued me in on the name of this handy little gadget a year or two ago, and it was a huge relief to have a name for something that I’ve been using for years.
It may have several names, but it has one purpose.
To find things that men and children cannot. Or will not. (As is most often the case.) Socks. Shoes. Tiny little toys. A giant box of cereal. Things that have no invisible properties whatsoever. But it seems to take the superpowers of a grown woman to find them.
Yesterday, hours and hours into the heart of Mother’s Day (4:00 p.m., if you need specifics), I got a call from Mr. H. (The first call of the day from him. To be fair, he took an early flight from Indiana, and endured overbooking, a bump to another flight, and a long layover to get home.)
“I’m at the airport, and I need you to come meet me. I can’t find the Jeep, and I’ve been walking around for over an hour.”
Huh. If I hadn’t once lost my own car at O’Hare by going to the wrong corner of the lot, I would have had the privilege of mocking him for losing his car. For losing the bright yellow Jeep.
“Let me change clothes, and I’ll be right there.”
“Happy Mother’s Day.” Oh wait, he DID NOT say that.
On the way to the airport my phone rang.
“Go back home. It’s okay, I’ll find someone else to help me.”
“No, I’m almost there.” Like hell I’m going back home after dragging myself and the kids out of the house on Mother’s Day.
“Okay, then. I’m in the East Economy Lot. Call me when you get here.”
“Be there soon.”
“And Happy Mother’s Day.” Except, no, he didn’t say it then, either.
I arrived at the designated lot, and called him back. “We’re here. Want us to drive around and look for it?”
By this time, a parking lot attendant had shown mercy and was taking Mr. H on a row by row search for the Jeep. We were on and off the phone a few more times.
And within moments of my (and my UTD’s) arrival on scene, Mr. H found the Jeep! With no actual help from me, really. Apparently it’s just enough for one of these devices to show up on the radar. Presto! There it is.
After discussing what we should do next, and since the kids needed dinner, we decided to find a place to eat. (And I didn’t feel like cooking.)
Finally, after we had been seated at a table and ordered our food, then Mr. H said it.
“Well, happy Mother’s Day.”
“Oh, is that today?” I said brightly. I never said I wasn’t passive aggressive.
Did I mention that he gets full credit for flying across the country to arrive here on Mother’s Day? And for following up his Happy Mother’s Day with “You’re the heart of this family”? That was a great thing to hear, even though I had to wait for it.
The day had not been without its great moments. Girl and Boy started the day off with unrestrained excitement to give me the things they made for me at school. They had each written sweet things, penned in their 6 and 9 year old handwriting.
In Girl’s class they were asked to fill in the blank:
My mother looks prettiest when…pretty any time. (Awww.)
My favorite thing about my mother is…her hugs and kisses.
The best time I ever had with my mother was…when I was born.
I had to try very hard not to laugh when I read that. Or to cry at the memory of pushing for two hours, the last hour without the epidural. Good times.
But, then, there she was at the end of it, so maybe Girl is on to something.
In Boy’s class, they were asked to write a letter to their mothers. A few high points from his letter:
Your cooking is amazing, and my favorite meal you make are hot dogs. (Betty Crocker, watch out.)
You are always courteous to others.
Your book is really good.
You are good at teaching me poker. (Thank god his teacher didn’t read these…hot dogs and poker. Where’s my trophy?)
But the best part? I really appreciate you. Those are all the reasons I love you.
I love you, too, Boy.
And I’ll say this. Maybe that Uterine Tracking Device is good for more than finding lost socks and sneakers. Maybe, just maybe, if we’re lucky, we can find some really big, important things. Bigger than cars, even.
With mine, I found my family, so maybe I won’t mind so much next time when I’m called on to find the cereal.