It has several really, but today it’s not what you think.
I call it vagdar… (at least, I do now.)
I can find anything, and the minions of my house call upon me to do so Every.Single.Day.
Flashback, seven years ago. 4:30 am. My son, who didn’t sleep through the night until he was well over a year old was sleeping peacefully in his bed in his room. I, on the other hand, was not. My husband had to catch the red eye out that morning; therefore, I, not having to catch a 6:00 am flight and very much in need of my pillow and my bed, was awake, too. He’s one of those…the kind who turns on the lights, makes lots of noise stomping around the bedroom getting his stuff together, and my personal favorite, plops down on MY SIDE of the bed to put on his socks and shoes.
“Babe, are you awake?”
I pulled my eye mask up just enough to show him my opened eyes. “Are you awake? If you’re awake, then I’m awake.”
“Well then, can you help me find my shoe?”
“What do you mean find your shoe? Shoe, as in singular? Have you looked in your closet? WHERE IT GOES?”
He ignored my question and continued shaking the bed pulling up his socks.
“Come on, dude. I’m late, and I need your help. Can you help me find it?”
I threw the comforter off of me, tossed my eye mask into the drawer of my bedside table and scoffed at him as I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. (Side note: I can’t do anything in the morning before I brush my teeth…very healthy habit if you ask me.) While I sonicared for the suggested two minutes, I ran through the events of the prior day. I thought back to the last time I picked up my husband’s shoes and put them in the closet. I felt certain I had put them away, but then I remembered seeing something: My son who was just starting to walk and loved to wear daddy’s shoes around the house was doing just that the previous night. I pulled on some pajama pants and began my search. I looked in the living room first because that’s where he tended to play, then the bathroom, then the kitchen, then the game room, the dining room, the office, our bedroom. Nothing. The only other room left to search was my son’s room, where he was sleeping. The same son that never slept.
I grabbed the nightlight/flashlight we kept in the guest bathroom, crept to his door, turned the handle gently, and tiptoed in. I glimpsed over at the little sleeping bundle, belly down, bottom up and sighed at his ridiculous cuteness. Then, like a house intruder, I scanned the room with my light. Nothing, so I tiptoed to his closet, turned the handle gently, and opened the door.
I paused, door slightly ajar, waiting to see if the noise woke him. He smacked his lips but seemed to still be happily in slumberville, so I searched the closet, pulling toys out of the toy box leaving a huge mess for me to come back and clean later that morning. Nothing.
By this time, my cool as a cucumber husband was starting to stress. I passed his office where he was packing his laptop.
“Did you find it?”
“No,” idiot, ” How, for the love of Pete, do you lose one shoe?”
“I don’t know. I gotta go though. Can you try to find it?” See, even he knows I hold the superpower.
I could feel the tension growing with each passing minute, and I too began to stress. I decided to go to my closet to collect myself, which is something I do often. I walked into the closet (which we shared at the time) glanced down, and guess what I found?
Yep. The shoe. In the closet. WHERE IT GOES! (He made his flight, thanks to me.)
These things happen all the time. “Mom, where is my Batman lego?”
“On the dining room floor next to my big plant.” Not WHERE IT GOES!
I don’t even have to physically look sometimes.
“Mom, where is my baseball belt?”
“It’s on the dryer.” Because you didn’t take it off and put it in your drawer: WHERE IT GOES!
Then yesterday, I get a phone call. I’m not even home, and my superpower gets summoned.
“Dude, I can’t find my stapler, and I gotta get to this meeting. Are you on your way home?”
I swear to god I almost threw my phone at the poor man jogging on the sidewalk next to the road, but he was way too pretty (all shirtless and sweaty) to be pelted with an antique iPhone.
Instead I went with my typical line of questioning: “Did you look in your office?“ Where it goes, idiot? “Did you check my desk? Did you look in the pencil drawer in the kitchen?”
He answered “yes” to all of these questions.
I made an illegal u-turn at the light, and headed to my house. Before I looked anywhere else, I decided to check my desk. I borrowed his stapler a few weeks earlier, but I was certain I put it back in his office. WHERE IT GOES!
It wasn’t there. I decided to go to his office, see if I could find it on the floor, or maybe in a drawer, possibly thrown away in the waste basket. I didn’t even take a step into the office, and guess what I saw.
My husband swears that I took it from my desk upstairs and put it in his office only to say that it was there the whole time. Guess what? I didn’t. It was sitting on his desk the entire time he was “looking” for it. WHERE IT GOES!
My mom used to complain about my dad’s and my brothers’ inability to find anything. In fact, she always said, “They must look for things with their eyes closed.” She handed the superpower down to me. My opinion of the matter is that they just don’t look at all, and because we can find anything, we get called upon to share our superpowers with the world, or our households.
Ladies, do you have vagdar, too? Are you the only one in your house who ever knows where anything is? If not, what is your superpower? Men, do you have a problem finding things? Is it just my husband, dad, brothers, and son?
Vaginas, assemble! (too much?)
Disclaimer: In light of recent posts about gender bashing…this is not gender bashing. I love men. I love my husband, and I’m happy to help him find his things. He is not greater or lesser than I. We are equals, except for the fact that I have superpowers, and he has none.