Mom on the Run
“Beth Beth Beth Beth!!” I am so excited, typing this email. “I found the pants!” I’m dancing in my seat, I’m so happy.
OK – backing up.
For my son’s senior-year season of ice hockey I volunteered to manage spirit wear. Not a big deal: pick the stuff out, get quotes, create an order form, collect orders and money, distribute orders. Right?
Pretty much. The process took a little longer than I thought, and involved two vendors for two batches of stuff, screenprinted and embroidered, but ultimately everything came together. Almost everyone on the team ordered something screenprinted – sweatpants or sweatshirt or t-shirt – and a new coach and a new player each ordered an embroidered warm-up jacket, and one previous player ordered a new pair of warm-up pants. Everything came in quickly, was accounted for, and was delivered.
Well, the screenprinted stuff came in and was delivered quickly. The embroidered stuff took longer, and when those three items finally came in, I gave the box to my son. “Give Coach Britt and James their jackets, and give Andrew the pants.” “Uh huh.”
Later that night, “Did you give everyone their warm-up stuff?” But: “None of them was at practice.” Oh, OK.
So, before the next practice: “Don’t forget to give out the warm-up suit stuff.” “Yeah, I know.” That night: “Did you give out the warm-up stuff?” “I gave Coach his jacket. Nobody else was there.”
It took a couple of practices and a bunch of nagging, but finally everything was delivered. I saw the boys wearing their spirit wear. There were no complaints or questions. Everyone was pleased. I was pleased!
Until a month later, when I got the email from Beth: “Andrew never got his warm-up pants.” What? Dang it!
I checked with my son: “Andrew says he didn’t get the warm-up pants. Did you give them to him?” Ha – a month later. I really bothered to ask? “Uhh … I gave out everything you gave me.”
“We gave the pants to Andrew,” I emailed Beth. And she replied: “Andrew says he doesn’t have them.”
I checked with my kid again: “Are you sure you don’t still have the pants?” “I’m sure!” I had him check his hockey bag, the back seat of the car, the trunk of the car, his room.
Beth had her son check his hockey bag, his backpack, his bedroom. No pants. Not at our house, not at their house.
Check again, I told my son, five, 10 times. Five, 10 times he checked. Check again, Beth told her son, five, 10 times. Five, 10 times he checked. No pants. Finally, Beth emailed, “I’m sure they’re buried here somewhere. Don’t worry about it.”
Not worry? No way. This was my project! And my kid! I was so distressed; I needed to find those pants!
So I thought about it. I thought and thought. And – oh! James only got a jacket! Maybe my son thought James got a full warm-up suit? I pulled out a whole-team email, guessed at a James-family email address, and sent out: “You only ordered a warm-up jacket. Did you happen to get a pair of pants as well?”
I was holding my breath. It was a leap, thinking James had the pants, and I made a note to move forward on Plan B, which was to wait a few more weeks, see if the pants popped up, and then pay for a new pair of pants for Andrew. But still, before Plan B came Idea A: maybe James has them. I was hopeful.
And finally, a return email! “Yes, we have the pants. We will get them to Andrew.”
Victorious, I email Beth: “Beth Beth Beth Beth! I found the pants!”
Beth writes right back: “Fantastic!” And then she says, with relief, what we were both thinking: “Neither of our boys is crazy!” Exactly. Exactly.
