The five stages of losing my phone. Obviously I survived.

So a few days ago, in the middle of a day I’ll spare you the grosser details of and just boil down to “gross kid stuff,” I realized I’d misplaced my cell phone. And yes I’m that person that walks around the house with it. I realize I have a problem. That is not what we’re talking about right now.

What we are talking about is my reaction to that problem, which persisted for more than 24 hours until I found said phone, dustier but still with a 24 percent battery charge, behind my bed after my 4-year-old son hinted that he may have been playing with it on my bed while watching “Muffin Babies,” which is actually “Muppet Babies” but he can’t read and doesn’t know what a Muppet is. (He is a fan of muffins, however.)

I knew that not having my phone on me would be a thing. It just turned out to be a different thing. Here’s my journey.

1. Panic. Obviously.

2. What’s happening? Who can live without knowing what I think about everything right this second?

 

3. Confusion that I am the world have survived without knowing what I think about everything right this minute.

 

4. Acceptance that I am a better driver, listener, co-worker, mother and friend when I pay more attention and don’t have distractions. Sorry phone.

 

5. PHONE!! I FOUND YOU!!! WHO’S BEEN TEXTING ME??? WORLD I’M ALIIIIIIVE!!!

I might have some work to do.