Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The Keys To His Heart

The following rant may not be exclusive JUST to football coaches' wives, but for the selfish purposes of this post, pretend that the world revolves around us.  Because it does.  No, really.  It does.

Keys.  The very word sends nauseous shivers up and down my spine.  Because the word is usually couched in sentences like:

"I can't find my keys."
"Where are my keys?"
"Did YOU take my keys?"
"Have you seen my keys?"

And these questions are usually (read:  always) asked about 2.5 minutes before he absolutely, positively HAS to be in his car, out the door, GONE.  Additionally, the questions are also being asked of Mrs. Coach when I am doing something "silly" like, I don't know, getting ready for work or at work where I can't possibly look for them, or getting our children ready for another spectacular day at school.

In the blessed, optimistic, early, loving days of our marriage, I used to jump up and start looking feverishly around the house.  I would grill the children with the skill of a police detective interrogator.  I would pick up furniture.  Dig through garbages.  Comb the lawn.  Check under the car seats.  Spelunk the toy chests.  And then, in the nick of time, we would find them in the pocket of the windbreaker from the previous day's practice.  And all would be well.  Except I would go to work with wet hair and no make up.  And the children would have skipped breakfast.  But, THANK GOD, he would have his keys!!

But now, I just look up from my current task, smile, and say, "Your Emergencies are not My Emergencies."  Three times.   (Just like my therapist told me to do.)  Because HE was the last one to see them.  HE was the one that gave them to the toddler to play with.  HE is the only one who needs or cares about the dang things.

Now, why, you ask are keys such a "big deal?"  Well, even if you don't want to know, I'll tell ya'.  You see, "teacher keys" and "coach keys" are a smidgen different than your piddly, regular keys.  Every coach has a set of keys that rivals those of most prison wardens.  (The comparison of those two professions is quite appropriate, by the way.)  There are keys to the school's front door, classrooms, locker rooms, gyms, storage closets, gate padlocks.  You name it, he's got a key for it.  And so does every other teacher, coach and administrator at the school.  So if one crazy cat loses his keys (for real) the ENTIRE school has to be re-keyed, which gets a tad expensive and annoying. 

So all of this drama is coach-caused but all-suffering.  And it just doesn't seem fair.  It is down right maddening, really.  And I have come up with the perfect solution. 

We are going to call the keys "Vagina." 

Because he always seems to be aware of where THAT is.  And it has never been misplaced.  And it would be very awkward for him to fume about the house asking:

"I can't find my vagina."
"Where is my vagina?"
"Did YOU take my vagina?"
"Have you seen my vagina?"

(*Not for exclusive use with "keys."  Also works for "wallet" and "cell-phone".)


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