I was stressed. I had spent all morning on the phone discussing non existent services for Ethan ; there is stress then there is that level of stress. Any parent of any child with additional needs knows exactly what level of stress the darlings in the HSE can bring out in you.

For those of you who don’t, imagine the most stress you’ve felt then imagine someone telling you, you’ve no real reason to be stressed, you just need to accept that what you’re stressed over, really doesn’t matter..to them.
Now that you all have that feeling, you have some idea of my frame of mind yesterday.
I had all the boys home and my darling friend A popped over; she really does intrigue me; I have no idea why anyone would visit our home as regularly as A, but I guess that is why she has been my friend for most of my life. She is the unpaid help.

She is the second mother, the second carer and the second cleaner in my home. She knows what it is like to walk beside my worn out torn down shoes and all I can do to repay her is make her laugh; apparently I am a funny fec*er , so I have that going for me!

Yesterday A had heard me rant and rave about my morning phone calls, emails and letters. She reminded me to breath and confirmed that it was ok that I used ‘bold’ words, because I am human and still trying for 8 years now, to get Ethan services he needs. She did fInd it amusing that I had written down on a piece of paper ‘DO NOT CURSE GER’ , to no avail, obviously, but the thought was there folks.

Ethan sat on my lap. I cuddled him. Suddenly my heart skipped a beat.

“Jesus, I’ve lost it “ Ethan moved off my lap and sat in his wheelchair. “Well, yeah “ A replied without missing a beat.

“My engagement ring !”

We spent the next hour looking for my ring without any luck. My stress levels were rising as I remembered the last place I had it, yes folks, the toilet cleaning and wiping Ethan , who lately, loves nothing morning than practising his ‘Bruce Lee’ moves while I try to duck and dive.

“It’s gone “ I declared, my eyes beginning to water. “The loo?” A softly asked.
I nodded. Saint Anthony look, Saint Anthony find, Saint Anthony put before my mind.
It’s amazing how I can remember which Saint is for what when I’m in a dire situation. I remembered my mother always said Saint Anthony won’t let you down, I didn’t want to have to put my mother’s theory to the test, but I had no choice.

I heard the car. I looked at A.

“Yippee Daddy’s home” the toddler declared.

I wasn’t sure how to tell D that I had lost the ring he chose for me, the ring that cost him a small fortune and the ring he told me 100 times or more to bring to a jewellers and ask them to place a band underneath it to keep it in place rather than getting it resized. The ring I absolutely adored and the ring that is complimented every time a shop assistant spots it.

I loved that ring. “Hey guys!” He smiled . “What’s wrong?” He looked from me to A.

“I lost my engagement ring” I blurted out. “Oh” he placed his bag down.

“I am so so sorry” I went over to hopefully get a sympathetic hug. “We will find it” he hugged me.

“I think it’s down the loo” He went into the bathroom, stuck his hand down the (recently flushed) toilet bowl.

“Nope not there”

He emptied not only the inside bin but the outside bin, which is a bit like a bin full of sh*t, literally and figuratively. He couldn’t find it.

“One last dirty place I can think of is the drain itself” he began to change into his I am working outside and I am a man clothes . “I am so so sorry” I repeated as I watched him search all the horrible places I was too afraid to check.

Saint Anthony look, Saint Anthony find, Saint Anthony put before my mind.

I walked into the sitting room where A was feeding Ethan. “Anything?” She asked.

“Nope, he’s out there elbow deep in god knows what looking for it. I feel awful” I drew the curtains. Something caught my eye in between the half eaten piece of yesterday’s toast (yeah I’m not proud of that ) and the dinosaur.

I bent down.
“Oh my god ! I’ve found it !” I held my beautiful tanzanite engagement ring up in the air. I kissed it too , thankful that I it wasn’t stuck in a sh*tty nappy or worse.

“D!!! D” I roared. “Ha! Great! Now put it away until you bring it to a jewellers !” He kissed my forehead.

“ Wow, no idea how it was there ‘cos I checked there , twice!” A laughed.

I learned three valuable lessons:

Romance is alive; seriously it may not sound romantic, but having my husband search all the places (especially our outside bins– think sh*t, lots of it) really did make me feel special — who needs dinners out and flowers? That’s romance right there!

My mammy is right about a lot of things ,including Saint Anthony.

It is important to visit a jewellers.

**Finally, my rings are now in my white jewellery box until I get a chance to go into town, so if I write about losing my wedding ring along with my engagement ring, some of you kind folks might remind me of where they are– cheers.

This was originally published on FamilyfriendlyHQ