Lost, and Most Likely Never Found

In my household there is a strange phenomenon.  I am the only person that can find things.  If Mad Dog, Full Speed and/or T.Puzzle locate something, and usually with insanely detailed directions from me, it is a miracle to be celebrated.  Seriously… a MIRACLE.

Keeping this in mind, T.Puzzle asked me to sign his school planner today.  As he handed me his notebook, the page I needed to sign floated onto my lap as soon as I turned to it.  To easily problem solve this, I asked him to bring me a paper clip.  Ha!  I said easily!  Normally to save us all from ourselves, if something needs to be found I am the one to do so.  However, my dog was so super-snugly and napping sweetly on my lap, I was highly unmotivated.  Therefore, it was up to T.Puzzle to save himself.

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T.Puzzle with the Snuggle Captain of the Universe

He walks over to the desk and in about two seconds flat announces, “I can’t find it!  There aren’t any paper clips here!”

Weird that I’d store paper clips in a desk of all things, right?

“Trust me, T.Puzzle, they are in there.  First, locate the middle drawer.  This is the one that is narrow and very long.”  He did.

“Nope! No paper clips!”

“Hang with me T.Puzzle.  Look at the upper left-hand quadrant of the open drawer (my boys are mathematically minded so it sounds odd, but this type of description is helpful, well, at least mildly so) and there should be a pack of paper clips.  It’s fine if you can’t open the pack, just bring them to me.”

He’s quiet so I take that as a good sign.  As he approaches me, I absentmindedly extend my hand to receive the clip.  He delicately places a used staple in my hand.

A USED STAPLE!

I have no words.  But, I do have paper clips.  Loads of them in fact because T.Puzzle still hasn’t used any.

 

 

Brain Washed

In the past I have dedicated entire posts to the ‘Mommy-Brain Phenomenon’. You don’t even need to be a parent to reach this level of scattered thought. All that is required are adult-sized responsibilities, lots of them and no personal assistant to guide you.

I can admit that I do my share of forgetful things. Last week I read a text wrong from Grandma and wasn’t there for my boys’ school pick-up (turns out she was getting them the NEXT day). Thank goodness for my brother-in-law who graciously saved the day and brought my guys home for me. I misplace things, can’t finish a thought and at times, baffle store clerks as I forget to sign-off on my credit card or hit the wrong button repeatedly. I hope you can relate. And if you can’t, please don’t tell me. Then again, I’d probably forget what you said to me anyway.

So, today, when Full Speed pulled his homework folder out and showed me this week’s packet while standing in our entry, it was a mystery to me when he couldn’t locate it five minutes later. If I hadn’t actually laid eyes on it, I would have thought he left it at school. I had seen it, so it had to be here.

We searched all the common sense places like the desk and in the car. Then we started getting more creative. We looked under the grandfather clock, in the bathroom (thank goodness it didn’t turn up by the toilet!) and in the pantry.

We could not find it anywhere. I started to doubt myself. Had I imagined him holding his homework packet? Had I completely succumbed to Mommy-Brain?

Then, it dawned on me. He had won a cup at school for successfully reaching a milestone in a reading program. I had asked him to put it in the dishwasher and….

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He couldn’t have hidden better if he tried.

Homework’s Hidden Obstacles

I had one of those afternoons.  There was so much to be done and I needed to get dinner ready.  As I went through the boys’ school folders, I felt a little overwhelmed by the avalanche of fundraising packets, field trip forms, supplies needed for classroom events and homework.  Soon, I gave up and delegated Full Speed to overlook T.Puzzle’s worksheets while I headed to the kitchen.

Here’s the thing, if I am going to be productive, it is extremely helpful if I’m not interrupted with a question every other second.  I thought if Full Speed could field T.Puzzle’s questions, I’d be home-free.  I underestimated their ability to create scenarios that required them to ask me questions.  After about the fifth question (mind you, none of them so far were even homework related), I declared the kitchen a question-free zone.  They fell silent in the other room so I erroneously thought they had figured things out.  In the distracted back part of my mind, I began to glean bits of nervous conversation coming from our homework station in the dining room.  Eventually, Full Speed dared to cross the threshold into the question-free zone.  He looked like he was about to walk the plank.

“Mom, I know we are NOT supposed to ask you anymore questions but something really strange has happened in T.Puzzle’s homework folder.  He only has last week’s assignments and there aren’t any new ones for him to do.  What are we suppose to do?”

I was holding a spatula in my hand.  Full Speed was lucky a spatula has no sharp edges.  I sighed that exasperated Mom-sigh we Moms all have perfected, and marched indignantly to the dining room table.  Clearly visible was T.Puzzle’s packet of new worksheets.  Yep, I had brilliantly hidden his homework on the table in front of where he normally sits.

Imagine if I actually had put some time and effort into hiding them.  Poor kid wouldn’t make it out of kindergarten.