The Disappearing Shirts

The other night, I decided to take the kids to do some shopping… What in the world was I thinking by taking them out an hour before dinnertime? And to make matters worse, it had been raining on and off the entire day. And to make matters super-duper worse, I decided that we should walk to the mercaz (town square.)
 
Okay, there was one main reason I did it- a friend of mine was willing to stay and watch the baby since he was sleeping. I saw an opportunity to do something with both arms free, so I ran with it. I ran with it and four giggly, giddy, loud boys who kept bumping into each other exactly in front of the stroller all the way down the nearly 1,000 steps to the mercaz. (I'm slightly exaggerating. It was more like 998 steps.) The kids were especially excited because at this time of year, it's dark by 5:00, so they thought I was taking them out late at night when it was really 5:30.
 
Before we left, I had put a bunch of my husband's and kids' white button-down shirts on the couch for the Shirts Guy to come and pick them up. Now that's what I call spoiling myself- letting someone else do the ironing. I told my friend to put the remaining shirts in the bag next to them, and I let her know that Shirts Guy would be coming by soon. Incidentally, I still don't know what Shirts Guy's name is, and I've been using him for over two years. Shame on me!
 
Well, everything was going great at the mercaz. The kids were unusually well-behaved, but that's probably because I got them each a small pack of picture cards to keep them entertained. This pack of cards deserves a whole article in itself, because it's an addiction/phenomenon among the boys here, and not surprisingly, it's made it to the coveted #2 spot on my “Most Hated Toys of All Time” list.
 
Yes, everything was great- until, that is, we were getting ready to leave the last store. As I was paying, it started raining. And when it rains, it's freezing rain, and heavy rain. “Oh, shawarma,” I muttered to myself. Not only was I gonna have to push a double stroller through a vertical obstacle course of 1000+ steps and boys who are compelled to zigzag in front of me, but I would have to do it in the freezing rain. Aye, Padre!
 
Eventually, we made it home, freezing, shivering, and starving. Miraculously, I had already had dinner ready, so we were able to eat right away. As I pushed the 80-pound double stroller through the doorway, I quickly glanced at the couch and noticed that the bag of shirts was not there. Awesome- Shirts Guy came by earlier than I expected.
 
The rest of the night was uneventful. By uneventful I really mean that nothing out of the ordinary happened. There was plenty of screaming, fighting, refusing to get in the shower and in bed, and more screaming and fighting. So, business as usual.
 
The next day came and went, and before I knew it, it was time to put the kids to bed. All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door. I get super-annoyed when someone knocks on the door during bedtime wars, as it ruins all of my momentum. Everyone jumps out of bed and runs to the front door to see who the visitor is and what he wants. By the time I close the door again, I've just lost another 10-15 minutes explaining to the kids what he wanted and getting them back in their beds.
 
On a side note, I've tried not answering the door, but many people will eventually ring the doorbell, and that drives me crazy! Don't they realize that there may be children sleeping at 9:00 at night?? Sorry. I had to vent.
 
Well, this visitor really did a number on me. I opened the door, and lo and behold, it's Shirts Guy! “Are my shirts ready already, Shirts Guy?” I asked him. After all, he just picked them up the night before. “Noooo,” he said slowly, looking at me strangely. “I'm here to pick up your shirts.” What, did I have a flashing “Stupid” sign over my head?
 
“What do you mean, 'pick up'? I thought I gave them to you yesterday,” I responded, confused and flustered. The kids were soaking up every scandalous minute of it. They started jumping all over each other, asking me all kinds of questions at the same time about the missing shirts. Meanwhile, Shirts Guy looked at me with a very slight hint of Israeli impatience. (He was getting very annoyed.)
 
I made him wait at the door while I tried to find my cell phone. Then I made him wait while I tried to get in touch with my friend, who didn't answer the phone until the 10^th time I called her. All in all, I made him wait about 8 minutes. That's a long time to be standing at some stranger's door while her excited kids nearly trample you with questions and stories about the dead mouse they found at school today.
 
In the end, I had to let him leave. The shirts were gone. Poof! Just like a magic trick. The more I wondered about where they could have disappeared to, the more magically upset I got. I played the entire night over and over again in my head. I looked behind the toilet. I even scratched my head in confusion. But I just couldn't find those shirts!
 
As I added up how much the shirts had cost, I started to get really upset. What made me even more upset was that I had put two or three brand new shirts from America in there, because they weren't going to get ironed by sitting on my nightstand for two weeks. Oy, I was so mad that I lost those shirts!
 
And then, I got the icing on the cake. Mr. Annoying came home and, after hearing the whole story, said: “Relax. It's obviously a kapparah (spiritual atonement.)” I've said it before and I'll say it again: G-d, I HATE it when he's right!!!
 
In the back of my head, I knew it too- but the yetzer was having too much fun watching the smoke come out of my ears. If I had been a normal person who would have tried to activate her emuna at that point, I would have saved myself a ton of stress and frustration. After all, what was the point of getting so upset over it? It's not like my negative reaction was going to make those shirts magically reappear!
 
Obviously Hashem wanted me to lose the shirts for reasons only known to Him. It took me a while to get over it, but in the end I finally put on my emuna glasses and admitted that losing a few shirts was far more preferable than losing my health, getting in a car crash, or worse, G-d forbid.
 
The next time something completely unexplainable and irrational happens, please try to do better than I did. Whatever it is, it's probably just not worth the aggravation. So save yourself the stress and headache, and activate your emuna. Trust me, it even has magical calming properties!