I need a flux capacitor

Joaquin is fast asleep. I didn't even have time to slip his boots off, the kid is totally zonked. I could probably go play drums, if I had any, in there right now and it wouldn't wake him. I have the door open, I am clanking around the house and nothing but snooze, snooze, snooze and little baby dreams.
Most days I get pretty excited when the super sleepies take over. I get a chance to clean up in an efficient way, listen to podcasts, do one of my workout videos or stare at the computer. It's the ultimate lunch break. But today I really want him to wake back up. I've gone in twice and sweetly called out "Joaaaaquiiiiin" and nothing, not even a stir.

Just an hour or so ago, mama, in her haste made a little errand boo-boo. I proactively decided to get actual prints of our Hawaii vacation photos just in case the laptop demons decided to claim the souls of our computers. We have thousands of photos just waiting to disappear, haunting us for a lifetime.

I have the photo center at Target to myself and I am glad because I'm not totally sure what all is on the discs I have. I know I'll be doing some croping and editing and I don't want to feel like someone is looking over my shoulder at my pre doctored up and approved pics. Out of hundreds of pictures I choose 13 that are print worthy. That seems kind of sad, but with every single handheld device having a camera, it's easy to take masses of unlovable photos. I decide to have everything put on to discs, just to have back up in case I ever change my mind about the hundreds we didn't print. After placing my order, my receipt prints with a pick up time an hour and a half later at the one hour photo booth (ahem). We take a lap around Target, buy some photo album pages and walk to the other end of the strip mall to Starbucks.
Joaquin gets a kids-soy-one pump-hot cocoa-no vanilla-no whip cream and I get a latte. We sit so we can see all the action in the parking lot. School buses go by, delivery trucks, security cars...this is Joaquin's dream location, cars and trucks of all types, non-stop. He half sips, half spills his lukewarm cocoa down his shirt and looks quite charming doing so. I let him play with my phone. I notice my wallet is on the other side of the table so I reach over and sweep it into my bag. It's been an hour since ordering our prints so I pick Joaquin up and walk back to Target.
It's still pretty cold out. Last year it was 70 degrees on March 1st. Not this year. It's been hovering around 35 for the last couple of weeks. The wind is hitting my forehead in an unappealing way and my kid is wiggling in my grip every time he wants to get a better look at a vehicle. It occurs to me that it's three o'clock and I haven't given J any lunch. I create a little mom guilt stress bubble to live in. Eating schedules are really hard for me. I've been a all day grazer for as long as I can remember. Sometimes when I sit down to a plate of food, it makes me feel kind of nauseous. This is why, if you know me, you never hear me say, "hey, wanna go out for lunch?"
Anyhow.

We have the photo center to ourselves again, so I position myself to flag down any Target employee that makes eye contact with me. Joaquin is standing close and is quiet, but I can tell that he is on a countdown. We need to go home and have a snack and maybe a nap, soon. I pick him up and set him on the counter and I can see our photos sitting there. An employee comes over and asks if I need help and I say that I'm here to pick up my pictures and I tell her my name and she picks up my prints. As she looks at her computer she takes one of the discs out of the burner.
"Oh." she says. "There are five discs. Um, your order isn't ready. That time on your receipt is just an estimate. It's probably going to take another half an hour."
"Mmmmm." I say. " I don't have a half an hour."
"What?" she says.
"I don't have a half an hour. Can you just cancel the discs? I'll just take the prints."
"I already started them, so I have to make the order." she says.
"I don't have another half an hour." I say, quite dryly. " Can you just sell me the prints?"
"Do you want to pick up the discs later?" she asks.
"Sure."
I wasn't smiling and I know I was giving her my 'you annoy me right now' eyes and she was giving me the 'you are an unreasonable mom-lady' look. She rings up my order and gives me the total and as I dig through my bag it's becoming clearer and clearer that I don't have my wallet. I put Joaquin back on the ground and dump my entire bag on the floor of Target. Napkins, lip balm, wadded up I-don't-know-whats all on the ground for all to see, but no wallet.
"I don't have my wallet." I say to the woman I've just been short with.
"What?" she says.
"I don't have my wallet. I'm sorry. I have to go." I pick Joaquin up and run/walk/shlep us back to Starbucks and look at the table, under the table, all around the table where we were sitting. I ask the barista. No wallet. I kind of want to cry. I put Joaquin in the car and call the bank to put my credit card and debit card on hold. As we pull into our driveway, Joaquin falls asleep.


I sit in front of my computer wondering if my wallet is in the trash at the coffee shop. It wouldn't be the first time I put the important thing I was holding into the trash. I call my husband and tell all.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" I ask.
"No. Not at all. You should call Starbucks, though. Ask them to maybe look in the trash, or even just set that trash aside so you can look through it. It's totally worth it."
I look up the Starbucks in our shopping center and give them a call. For some reason, the number I dial calls Target. I decide to ask them about my wallet since I have them on the line.
"What's your name?" Customer service says.
I tell them.
"Yes. You dropped it in the film drop slot at photo processing." she says.
"Really?" I say. "Wow! Thank you so much. I'll be right over." It takes me a minute but I remember that there is a Starbucks in Target and that's how I ended up calling them. When I sat J up on the counter, I must of pushed my wallet into the slot. As I breathe a sigh of relief I find myself wishing I could rearrange my day however I want. Change the order of things so I could actually complete small little tasks without throwing my whole day into upheaval. It's kind of draining to fly by the seat of my pants all the time. Even now, when I know where my life encased in vinyl is, I will sit here patiently and wait for my son to wake.