At 8:25 the kids get picked up for school.  At 8:20 I saw Maggie's empty folder sitting on the sidetable. "Maggie, go get your homework, put it in your folder, and put it in your backpack."  If I'm being completely honest I know I said it with just a little exasperation in my voice.  Afterall, she is in 4th grade, and she should be a little more responsible, right?

"Mom! I can't find my homework.  I think I left it all right here, and now it's gone."

Ugh. We all go scrambling around looking for the missing homework.  We have like 3 minutes to find it.  It's not in any of the usual places.  Luckily carpool seems to be running slightly behind, so we start looking in all the unusual spots.   Behind couches, under beds,  between pillows, even in the laundry room, and the kitchen trash.  It is nowhere.   Carpool arrives, they agree to wait a minute while we keep looking.  Now we're looking in really weird places...the pantry, Reas' church folder, my closet.  All the while I keep saying things like, "THIS is why you should put your homework in your backpack as soon as you finish it."  Finally, we have to let the carpool leave and I'll have to drive Maggie to school after we find the homework.  I would've rathered just sent her without it, but the look on her face!  She was so sad, nearing hysterics, but trying to hold it back all at the same time.  She IS responsible.  She wants to do everything right, and going to school without her homework, where she'd have to sit on the wall during recess for coming to school unprepared would be torture for her.  During the frantic search I'm torn between trying not to get mad and showing it by lecturing her the whole time, OR breaking down right along with her because I can remember being in 4th grade.  I remember knowing the world would truly end if I had a missing assignment.  I totally understand it, but STILL.  This all could have been avoided if she would have put her things away.   So I try to keep the lecturing to a minimum, but little comments kept slipping.  By this point she was desperate, and I knew that homework wasn't going to turn up by itself.  So we said a prayer.  A simple, heartfelt "help us find the homework" prayer.  Then we did the only thing that was left to do...we kept looking.

I made my way back to the trash, obviously not my favorite place to go digging.  This time I must've dug a little farther or searched down the other side of the bag because there it was.  All 3 pages of her homework glued together with chocolate pudding and sausage grease.  I was happy, relieved, and instantly humbled.  I was the one who threw those papers in the trash.  I KNOW it was me.  I turned toward Maggie expecting and hoping to see smiles.  Instead, she was mostly worried about what to do with her soggy homework.  I wiped off dinner the best I could, smoothed out the wrinkles, and wrote a note to Maggie's teacher taking full blame for the huge mess.  I apologized to Maggie for accusing her of not taking care of her things.  She knew right where she had left her work.  She put it safely out of reach of little hands, but unfortunately not out of reach of a mom who all too often spins around in a frenzy trying to be rid of clutter.  I hate being wrong, especially when it's at the expense of others.

We jumped in the car and pulled up to the gate one minute before the tardy bell would be ringing.  The van had hardly stopped and she was out the door, racing across the playground trying to get to the door before she'd be locked out and have to go through the office where she'd be given one of those horrible pink tardy slips.  That's the the other thing about Maggie... she hates being late.  I sat there watching her run, backpack and lunch box flying behind her, and feeling completely helpless.  I know now it doesn't sound like a big deal...not turning in homework ONE time, and being a little late to school.  For Maggie though, it IS a big deal.  And I could even get over the fact that the whole ordeal had been my fault because it was just an honest mistake, but the way I had accused her the whole time when it had really been me, and the little comments I kept making, makes me sick.

She made it to class before they locked the door so I guess it was a happy ending.  But all I can think about is how I sent her off to school without giving her a hug and making sure she really knew how sorry I was.  We were in such a hurry to leave I couldn't even talk with her about how we found her homework after we said a prayer.  I felt cheated out of a moment with her.  I know I can say it all tonight when she's home again, but I'm feeling it now.  I'm feeling the weight and responsibilty of motherhood now.  Life is short and my time to be Maggie's, Ty's, Claire's, and Lily's mommy is even shorter.  I know parenting, like everything else we do, is a learning process, but it's scary that while we are learning and unfortunately making mistakes, we're permanently shaping another life.   Or 4 other lives, in my case.  It's kind of like the studying for the test and the actual taking of the test is all going at the same time.  I know I'm going to mess up more than I'd like.  I just hope that if each day I can do a little more to be the right mom for my kids, be more loving and understanding of their needs, and mess up a little less during the process, that that will be good enough.