This week I did what any fearless mother would do. I pulled trash bags out of our big green trash container and dug my way through them.
I didn’t even wear those yellow plastic gloves some folks use to do the dishes. I did change out of my suit into some clothes that could handle whatever might fly from the garbage.
So, what was I looking for? My son’s homework!
Hopefully, there won’t be too many times when my children tell me something that causes my heart to skip a beat. But when PJ laid those big, sad eyes on me and said in despair, “If I don’t find my science packet and turn it in tomorrow, I’ll get a zero,” my first reaction was shock.
A zero? Not our son! He’s much to bright to get a zero. I mean, I’ve never gotten a zero! What will the admissions office at Washington University do when they see a zero on his fourth-grade report card?
Then my shock turned to frustration. “Boy, when was this due? Why isn’t it written in your assignment book? Why did you bring it home if it was already finished? Where did you see it last?”
“I gave it to you, Mommy, so that we could study.”
“OH LORDY, LORDY, NOT ME!” Then my mind began race. “When did he give it to me? Why did he give it to me? Where was I at the time when he allegedly gave it to me?”
I had only faint memories of seeing the elusive science packet the previous week. I remember studying it with him, but that’s all.
Oh, wait. I also remember cleaning out his folder, cleaning off his desk, throwing away old homework. Could I have tossed it in the trash?
There was only one way to find out. And that was to dig.
I told myself that if I found it and it had old pizza sauce or other decaying food on it, I was going to drive to a Kinko’s and copy the entire thing and throw myself on the mercy of his science teacher.
So I grabbed a larger trash bag and began unloading all the nasty things you might find in the trash. Right away, though, it started to rain, so I had to move the mission inside our garage.
“Great, it’s 100 degrees in here!” Soon the sweat was pouring from my face. I didn’t care, I was on a mission. “Please, Lord, help me find it” was my only quiet prayer.
I DIDN’T FIND IT! I came in the house determined to do something to make up for my portion of the problem. I walked straight to the kitchen counter, lifted a pile of paper, and there it was.
By the way, I sent PJ to his bedroom telling him that he had to be more responsible because his father and I weren’t sitting at his desk in school, we weren’t taking his tests for him. Only he could do it, and he had to do it.
I certainly hope he remembers his mother digging in the trash for his homework. I know I’ll never forget it.