Dude, Where's the Ipod?

Or, Why I Will Not be Winning the Mother of the Year Award.

A week or so ago, a classmate of R’s (1st grade) gave her an Ipod. Uh huh, an Ipod. He told her he had three, so it seemed reasonable to her I suppose. When she showed it to me during the chaos of school pick-up -- kids yapping at me, freezing winds -- I was thrown.

“No! We can’t take that!” I blurted, “We have to give that back!” but instead of finding that boy right then and there, I decided to just chuck everyone into the car and deal with it all later.

The next day, the child wouldn’t take the Ipod back. I made a mental note to call his parents.

I forgot.

A week passed.

The boy’s father arrives at school this morning asking the teacher to point out R. She does. He asks for his Ipod back. “It was a mistake,” he told R, “Something he shouldn’t have given away.” (Ya think?) The teacher called me – fortunately that very morning during our school conference, I relayed this story to her and how I felt so embarrassed that I hadn’t called the family yet (who I don’t know) and have been meaning to return it – and even as she assured me the father understood and was not angry, she was laughing her head off.

“I’ll return it right away,” I said, while the mental ticker-tape in my brain was flashing, “loser mom-bad mother-Ipod stealer” over and over and over again.

Since then, I have turned my house upside down, scolded my daughters for losing it, scolded myself, looked under beds, inside pockets, through every cabinet and toy bin, searched the car, pulled my hair out, sweated, fretted, frowned and nearly cried. Found lots of missing stuff – my hair-cutting scissors, for instance, and countless magnets (don’t ask), missing toy parts, all my pens - but no limegreen Ipod.

I CANNOT FIND THAT STINKIN’ IPOD.

I would say why do these things happen to me? But, truth is, I already know why.

Someone else won the Mother of the Year Award I guess, and I am just another of the uncrowned.