SAHM I am (15 page)

Jocelyn,

I just got back from shopping—what an adventure, I’ll post the whole story on the loop in a bit—and was catching up on e-mails. Read yours and it brought tears to my eyes, especially considering what happened today. You are such a good example for me.

Love,

Dulcie

Oh, please! You make it sound like I’m 150 years old! :) But…you’re welcome. I know what you meant. Looking forward to hearing about your shopping adventure.

Love you back,

Jocelyn

Hey everybody!

Greetings from Kansas City—where me and the girls are spending the week with DH Tom doing some Christmas shopping and relaxing. You all have to watch
Newsline
two weeks from tomorrow, because I’M ON THE SHOW!

See, it all happened like this:

Tom was working so I decided to take the girls and brave Crown Center by ourselves. For those of you who have never been to KC, Crown Center is the home of Hallmark Cards, and there’s a huge shopping mall and a science center for kids, and all sorts of great activities. The plan was to go after lunch so that the girls would fall asleep in the stroller (I’ve got a three-seater. Looks like a bus!) and I could get shopping done. Then we were to meet Tom at the Crayola Café at 5:30 so we could do the kids’ stuff after supper. Great plan, right?

Well, everything was going along perfectly. The children fell asleep in the stroller right on cue, even McKenzie who normally would be too interested in everything around her. And they STAYED asleep, even with all the noise and bustle. That should have been my first clue that something was soon to go horribly wrong. :)

I got tons of shopping done—hit a few good sales, was feeling very proud and self-sufficient. About 4:45, decided I didn’t want to haul all my purchases to the restaurant with me, and headed toward the parking garage to deposit everything in the car. So far, so good, right?

Okay, so we’re parked in the farthest, most forgotten corner of the garage. I reach the car at last, and pull the stroller alongside the car so I can unlock the trunk. I have all the shopping bags set on the ground next to the trunk, which is now open.

I’m just about to reach for the bags to put them in the trunk, when out of nowhere, this guy walks past me and swipes all my bags! I don’t know how he did it so fast, but then he takes off running!

Oh, I was steamed! All that work, all that money, and he thought he could just walk off with it? Not around THIS MAMA!

I couldn’t tell you now how it happened, but somehow I must have reached into the trunk and the first thing I touched was a crowbar. Before I knew it, that crowbar hopped into my hand and flung itself after the thief! It hit him square in the back of his head, and he dropped like a rock!

So, here I am, all alone in this parking garage, with three sleeping children and a thief whom I feared I may have killed by accident, and all my Christmas presents scattered around him. I didn’t know what to do!

I glanced up and saw a fire alarm on the wall. I figured I didn’t have much choice, so I pulled it. Of course, that set off a huge noise, which woke the children, and brought me lots and lots of company real quick. I was NOT alone anymore.:) Meanwhile, Mr. Sticky Fingers is still laid out on the concrete, and I could see a huge gash in the back of his head. I was just hoping he didn’t bleed all over Haley’s new Christmas dress!

The security guards came. And the police came. And the fire trucks came. The first person to find us was one of the firefighters. His name is Eric, and he is divorced with eight children, and he likes to eat sushi.

But I digress…

I explained to Eric about the fire alarm and showed him the man I’d KO’d. The rest of his crew radioed everyone to let them know there wasn’t a fire, but by then, of course, the police were there and all the news media. The firefighters gave
first aid to the man, who was not all that badly injured after all. A police officer—don’t know his name, as he was considerably less friendly than Firefighter Eric—took all my shopping bags and wouldn’t give them back. It occurred to me then that I should be a bit worried about what might happen to me for assaulting the would-be package snatcher. Would it be considered self-defense? Or would his family sue me? Was it against the law to pull a fire alarm when there was no fire? If the grumpy-looking officer decided to arrest me, would he wait for Tom to get there to take the girls?

I suddenly had this vision of me sitting in some gloomy prison cell trying to entertain three unhappy and frightened children. I don’t know what was more disturbing—the thought of incarceration itself, or being locked in there with grouchy kids!

Anyway, it took me forever to explain to the police what had happened. They did not arrest me, though it seemed that Officer Grumpky looked a bit disappointed about that. Sticky Fingers, it turns out, is the most wanted parking-lot thief in the Kansas City metro area, so after he recovers from his concussion, he’s going to jail.

The officers wanted to keep all my stuff I bought as evidence, but they settled for photographing everything instead. By this time, I’d been interviewed by several TV reporters and it was well past 5:30. The girls were getting really fussy and hungry, and I could just imagine how irate Tom would be by now, waiting for us in the café all by himself.

But just as I was beginning to think we’d never be allowed to leave, there came Tom, practically running toward us, pushing everyone out of the way.

“Dulcie!” He grabbed me and gave me such a tight hug I could hardly breathe. “You okay?”

McKenzie piped up, “Mommy killed a bad man who tried to take all our presents, just like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and lots of police and fire trucks came. And now they’re just standing around talking. I’m hungry, can we eat soon?”

“I didn’t kill him.” I corrected her. “I…made him go to sleep for a while.”

“You won’t make me go to sleep that way, will you?”

Even Officer Grumpky smiled at that one.

“Never, sweetie,” I told her. Then I asked Tom, “How did you know where we were?”

He shrugged. “Some firefighter came and told me.”

It had to have been Eric—come to think of it, I had mentioned we were supposed to meet Tom in the Crayola Café. How kind of him to find Tom for me!

One of the reporters stopped Tom and asked him what he thought about his wife helping to capture one of the busiest thieves in KC. Tom grinned at me and replied, “My wife’s throwing arm is almost legendary. You don’t want to get in the path of any of her projectiles.”

Oh, great. The reporter lifts her eyebrows and says, “I take it you speak from personal experience?”

I’m standing there thinking,
Please, oh please, don’t mention the episode with the apple and the black eye!

Tom puts his arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “Only the sort that comes from playing softball with an apple.”

Whew! Sometimes, I just LOVE my husband. (Well, actually, I love him all the time…but you know what I mean.) Anyway, the reporter gave us a weird look but didn’t ask any more questions.

It was nearly 6:30 by the time we finally got to the restaurant. And when we returned to the hotel, there was a mes
sage on our answering machine from Brenda Walkers, with
Newsline,
asking me to call her! It turns out, they were in KC this week doing a news story about shopping mall theft during the holidays, and had spoken with the police and some of the victims of the man I caught. So tomorrow morning I’m supposed to have an interview with her in the meeting room here, and they’re planning to air the show in two weeks!

Plus, one of the mall executives walked up to us at dinner and told me that Hallmark was offering a reward for information leading to the arrest of anybody in connection with parking lot theft, so I also got that and a whole bunch of gift certificates for various shops and restaurants!

We watched the local news at 10 this evening, even let McKenzie stay up for it. She thought it was so cool to see us on TV. I thought it was pretty cool myself.

Sorry for the LONG e-mail, but I just had to tell you all what happened. Besides, I’m too wound up to go to sleep. Tom’s already snoring away in bed. How DO guys do that?

Dulcie

No fair, Dulcie! When Griffith stuck his head in the kitty post, we only made local news. Where was Brenda Walkers THEN? :)

With media envy,

Z

Dulcie, I am SO glad you are all right! You and your children could have been seriously injured. If it had been me, I would have let him take the bags. No amount of purchases are worth risking your life for. What if he’d had a gun?

But this is a good time to bring up the subject of shopping mall safety. I’ve attached a list of good rules we all should follow when out shopping, especially during the holiday season. I trust you all will take this lesson to heart and practice common sense.

And I’m sure that Dulcie and her family will be thanking God with greater appreciation this Christmas for the blessing of being together and safe. I just shudder to think of what could have happened to you!

I really hope you don’t get sued or anything. You had better contact your lawyer just in case. These days, people will sue even when they were in the wrong. It’s crazy.

Blessings,

Connie

Dulcie’s story is a perfect illustration of what consumerism and materialism have done to our nation. Years ago, before Christmas became such a time of greed and selfishness, nobody would have dreamed of stealing somebody’s shopping bags. And even if they had, the person would have been reasonable enough to let them go. After all, material possessions simply aren’t that important. If we weren’t letting our secular culture propel us to the mall, we wouldn’t ever have to face a situation like Dulcie’s. I hope this wakens all of you to the evils of our modern Christmas celebration and helps inspire you to put Christ back in Christmas.

Much joy,

Rosalyn

Hey girls,

I’m only sending this to the four of you because I just couldn’t bear to put up with Rosalyn’s comments if she finds out. It’s Saturday night, and we just returned from Tom’s company’s Christmas party. He’s out taking the babysitter home—hope he doesn’t get lost.

To catch you up, the interview with Brenda Walkers went great. Maybe a little too great. I think my head was starting to swell with all the attention. I have to admit, I enjoyed be
ing the hero. Everyone kept telling me how wonderful I was and how brave and smart. I must have begun to believe it.

Now, however, I know better. I am not wonderful, brave
or
smart. In fact, I have a strong suspicion I am actually rather stupid.

Today started out beautifully. I had everything arranged so I’d be ready to go to the party. I know it’s just an office party, but it was black-tie, and it’s about the only chance I’ve had all year to really dress up. You’d think I was going to my high school prom with all my primping and preening. And I looked pretty good, extra poundage aside. I’d even bought a new dress for the occasion—a long, draping number made out of this shimmery red fabric that swishes when you walk.

Tom looked great, too—rented a tux and everything. Mmm, Mmm, good! :) And he bought me these gorgeous scarlet roses with edges dipped in gold glitter. I pinned a couple in my hair, and it was just the right touch. He picked up the babysitter and brought her back to the hotel, and we were ready to go.

The party was at another hotel in their ballroom, and when we arrived, we got our picture taken. (I was a little miffed that the camera didn’t make me look thinner….) The ballroom was like a fairyland. There were flocked Christmas trees all around, and glittery snowflakes suspended from the ceiling. In one corner, three tables were loaded with just about any bite-size dessert you could imagine. Think the Land of Sweets from the Nutcracker ballet, okay? Everything was so beautiful!

We had lobster for dinner, and I finally met the romance girls—Michelle, Kelly and Justine. Tom introduced me to his supervisors, Bruce and Chris, and the other programmers, and they all commented about seeing me on television on Wednesday night.