My Lost Wedding Ring

Karen Forest recently wrote about her Grandmother's lost wedding ring. It sparked me to tell the tale of my own lost ring and gave me hope that someday, it just may turn up unexpectedly.

Our younger son has all these really cute little idiosyncrasies that make me smile everyday. The Swede and I are always looking at each other and mouthing, "Isn't that cute?" However, it wasn't always cute stuff that he did. Back when he was a toddler, most of it was naughty.

When he was little...18 months or 2 years old...I could always tell what he was up to because he would stash his stuff inside the seat of his ride-on firetruck. Each day, you'd find various keys, blankets, action figures, Hot Wheel cars, whatever he happened to be playing with, inside this container. He was a busy kid. By busy I mean, always getting in to mischief. ALWAYS.

You couldn't take your eyes off him. The kiss of death was having to go down to the basement to change the laundry. In those two minutes, he'd manage to do some serious damage.

He drew all over our furniture and brand new windows (and their frames) with a permanent marker.

He "played" with my nail polish on our carpeting.

Once, when he was 18 months old, I came up from the basement. After a minute or two, I realized he wasn't around. I frantically ran around the house shouting his name. I glanced out the window and there he was, at the end of our driveway, about to cross the street. While I was switching the laundry, he had scaled the gate, unlocked the front door and wandered outside.

Another time - again, he was about 18 months old - after I put a load of laundry in, I came upstairs to find him sitting on our counter, putting my jewelry, piece by piece down the garbage disposal. Luckily it wasn't on. And luckily I caught him in the act or I probably would have found out about the jewelry the next time attempted to dispose of some food.

Again, let me stress he was the type YOU HAD TO HAVE YOUR EYE ON EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY.

Okay, so the lost ring....

Our family traveled to Annapolis to attend my nephews graduation from the Naval Academy.
We stayed at The Courtyard by Marriott*. Among other things, our busy boy had a fascination with the in-room mini-fridge. That, and my purse. One day, our older son said his milk tasted "minty". Indeed it did. Our younger son had taken my tin of Altoids and put each mint inside the gallon of milk.

The evening before our 16-hour drive home, we had a big family dinner out. We returned to the hotel and I got ready for bed. I took off my watch and and my ring. I looped the watchband around my ring so I wouldn't lose the ring. Ha!

The next day, we got on the road and were about 2 hours into our drive home when I noticed I hadn't put my jewelry on. I started rummaging through my purse. Then with mild panic setting it, I looked again. Then, even more frantically, ignoring the growing pit in my stomach, I looked again. Finally, when I was certain it wasn't in my purse, I casually mention to The Swede, "I can't find my ring."

We pulled over on the side of the interstate and unloaded our luggage. We tore through each piece...nothing.

I quickly called the hotel trying to catch management before housekeeping went through the room. They sent someone up to search the room - every bit of it - but they claimed to find nothing.

I couldn't just accept that. I had to ask The Swede to turn around so I could check the room myself.

Two hours and many frantic phone calls later, we got to the hotel. I checked the room and found nothing. Still, I felt better checking each nook and cranny with my own eyes.

It was depressing to turn around and head home knowing I'd never see that ring again.

I still hope it will show up someday in our car, in a tiny corner of a piece of luggage, under the lining of my purse.

On the way home, it occurred to me that our 18 month old had been playing with stuff in the room. I asked him if he played with my ring. His response?

"I put it in the mini-fridge."

So, my assessment is that the person who initially searched our room, looked in the fridge, found the ring, and kept it.

Shame on them.

Lesson learned. We made a huge mistake not calling the police.

About six months later, The Swede got me an exact duplicate. This new one will always be the replacement ring and not my wedding ring. That ring was probably bought from a pawn shop or eBay and some stranger is enjoying their bargain.

Sniff-sniff.

*If you're ever there, check the employees fingers for my ring.