Lost and found
I seem to be spending more and more time looking for lost items, and I would like to know just who put moms in charge of the lost-and-found department anyway? It doesn’t matter what the item is, or who lost it: according to my family I’m supposed to be able to locate it, preferably in less than 60 seconds.
“Do you know where my golf shoes are?” my husband recently asked.
“They’re in the garbage bag next to your side of the bed,” I answered.
“Why are they in a garbage bag?”
“Relax. I’m not trashing them. When I cleaned out the van I put all your things in a garbage bag and put it on your side of the bed. You’ve crawled over it every night for the last two weeks and never bothered to look in it.”
He thanked me, retrieved his golf shoes, and left without bothering to sort through the rest of the items in the bag.
“Where are our red baseball shirts?” the twins ask five minutes before their game.
I pull four red shirts from their drawers and trot through the house behind them, waving the shirts like a red ribbon I’ve just won at the county fair.
“That’s not them,” Russell says. “Those say Rockets. We’re the Reds this year.”
“I’ve been to 20 games this season. If I don’t know what your shirts say, nobody else will either.”
They look at me like I’m nuts and shake their heads. While they search for their missing ball gloves, I go back to their room and toss all their clothes in the middle of the floor in a last-ditch attempt to find the right shirts. About that time the phone rings.
“Hey, honey, have you seen my notebook, the one I use for work?” my husband asks.
“No, but I’ll add it to my list of things to look for,” I answer.
Just then my daughter walks by and pokes her head in the twins’ room.
“Why are you cleaning out closets now? Don’t the twins have a game?”
“Uh-huh, but they can’t find their shirts.”
She nods. “That reminds me, have you seen my green top that goes with my new capris?”
“No, but I’ll put out an APB for it.”
“Never mind. I’ll look for it right after I find your dad’s notebook.”
She walks across the room and kisses the top of my head. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
I guess being in charge of the lost-and-found department does have its rewards.