Exceptional A Day in the Life Key FarGo - Nanny Diaries by Mary Wakeford In honor of my friend, Kayla's, birthday yesterday. One of our many adventures spanning fifty-five years of friendship.

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. When the universe deals you a challenge...take pictures...lots of them. A lunch date with a friend at the former Maryvale Golf course. I arrived late due to my clove essential oil bottle breaking and making a mess. Then I was unable to find my only set of car keys. They were located ten minutes later in the front yard--where I had left them while watering plants--Attention Deficit Disorder engaged. I was finally ready to roll, smelling like I had crushed nine hundred nuts of Meg with my bare hands. Then off to the garage where I began the process of strapping my grandson into his five point harness car seat. You would think we were attempting a NASA lift-off. Ten minutes later, I settled into the driver's seat as I thanked St. Anthony for the assist in locating my only set of car keys. I should add here that my back-up keys and FOB had been eaten by my son's dogs when I let him borrow my car a few months back.  I buckled myself into the standard one point harnessing seatbelt before hitting the garage door remote opener located on the rearview mirror. The door began opening only to reveal my husband's truck parked right behind me. FOOOOOOK! My late-o-meter had another few minutes tacked on for this unexpected snag. I unbuckled my already-exhausted body and ran back into house to obtain the truck keys; fighting off my two exhuberant large dogs who were happy to see me back so soon. I cancelled the security alarm, located the truck keys on my husband's dresser, then returned to the garage. Once I assured my harnessed-up grandson I was not leaving without him, I fired-up the truck-- at this point in my bad morning, I didn't need a toddler freak-out to deal with. From the expression on his face, he looked skeptical. After relocating the white beast of a truck, I felt accomplished at now being only twelve minutes late for my lunch date, considering my morning challenges. I ran back into the house to return keys to the rack, fought off the two confused but happy dogs for the second time in three minutes, reset the alarm, and then disappointed the pooches by leaving again. Once re-harnessed in my one-pointer, I fired off a follow-up text to my friend (now at the golf course) with my revised ETA update adding an additional five minutes to my "running late" status. I took a deep breath, backed out of the garage, and headed south. I felt compelled to fire off one additional ETA update eight minutes later when we were delayed at Grand Avenue.  A train conductor decided to mess with my "mojo" as he exercised reverse and forward drills of the "choo-choo" back and forth across the intersection.  Brunhilda, my inside voice, who had remained remarkably quiet and composed throughout all my morning challenges, yelled "FOOOOOOK YOU CHOO-CHOO, AND THE RAIL YOU RODE IN ON!"  Bruni and trains have never gotten along well, dating back to the 1970's.  She takes it personally when they block her traffic flow. We eventually arrived at the golf course twenty minutes late, just a tad frazzled, and I would find out an hour later--up shit creek without a paddle. I greeted my friend while apologizing profusely for my lateness, then began the pack mule phase required of toddlerism maintenence by proceeding to unload: Grandson - check diaper bag-check purse-check grandson's fake golf clubs-check tee shirts for Leslie-check car keys lock car manually; place keys in diaper bag-check                                                                          It's not by accident car keys is not checked off the bullet list. Following a nice lunch, several frantic searches of my purse, my person, the fake plastic golf bag, my grandson, his diaper (anything is possible with a two year old), and finally the diaper bag with its endless little pockets and gazillion inside zippers and caches, ensued, to no avail. Nearly two hours after arrival at the golf course, I had a feisty toddler on my hands due to his morning nappy being denied.  With AAA to the rescue, we were once again ready for lift off. Note to Self: Don't place keys on the backseat arm rest during extrication of child from his 5-point carseat, then engage car lock function from same back door.  Ever. Again. That is all. This MiMi was in need of a five-point nappy following that adventure. A huge thanks to the Thelma to my Louise, my friend, Kayla, who after a message and two phone calls was on her way to pick us up with her car seat when I remembered we carried the AAA car lockout coverage. Keys...you can't live with them, and you can't live without them!   Recognized Author Notes This happened last year. Lost keys are a recurring issue with me. With a second grandson due in May 2017, I may never leave the house! My writing often reflects my inner voice, who I affectionately named Brunhilda. She is a bit of a crank, but always has my back.

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