We had a minor drama before school started. Last week, as Angelica packed her bag to get ready for school, she told me her homework book was missing. We looked everywhere for it. I had just tidied up my home studio, and was relentlessly throwing out stuff, so I panicked, thinking I could have accidentally chucked away her book. For the next few days, we looked in every nook and cranny in the house, even rifling through the stack of newspapers for recycling.
Nothing.
Many things went through my mind. Will the teacher be angry at her for being so careless? Will the teacher be angry at ME? What about the homework in the homework book that she was supposed to do for the holidays?
I’m a terrible mother.
Just as I was about to call off the search party, my daughter came to me again, telling me that her “buku aktiviti” (activities book) for Bahasa Malaysia was also missing. Alamak!
The night before school, I made a decision. We would both bravely face her teacher and tell her that we were both very sorry for losing the books, and that we would get new ones to replace them. We wouldn’t tell her that her sister Lauren ate it, nor would we pretend to not realise the books were lost. It was the right thing to do.
The next day, I sent her to class as usual. I helped her put her books back in her drawer in class and got her settled in. As a last-ditch effort, I went to look at the shelf where they usually kept the kids’ workbooks. There was a stack of homework books! My heart skipped a bit. A little hope started to blossom.
With shaking hands, we went through every book and there, the 10th book in, was hers! Cue dramatic music. We found it!
Not that it was lost in the first place. The teacher never gave the kids the book to take home. I had been searching for nothing. Ah, but my relief was greater than my indignation.
High on triumph, I looked around the shelves. Sure enough, in a neat little stack to the left, were the kids’ buku aktiviti for Bahasa Malaysia! Yahoo!
My kid did not lose any of her schoolbooks during the holidays. I am not a terrible mother!
After I did a little celebratory jig with Angelica, in full view of the other parents, I hugged her and wished her a great day in school.
But this little forgetful trait of mine, that I see sometimes in her, needs to be addressed.
Kids need to be accountable for their own things. This is why over the weekend, I lugged home three Ikea shelves and dug out my labelling machine. Each of my daughters is going to get their own space in their room, which they will organise and label themselves.
There will be no more frantic searches for headbands and hair ties at the eleventh hour, or hours spent looking for Barbie’s lost shoe, or the scramble in the morning for the mechanical pencil that “makes writing easier and faster.” My daughters will know where everything is at any one time and the world will be a much better place.
The girls relish their personal space as well. Here’s a simple fact, kids don’t like to share.
Yes, I do go through the whole motion of saying things like, “You have to share with your sister, because you love her,” “I had to share with my sister, so you better share with yours,” “Sharing is caring,” “What? You think money grows on trees? Have half a cupcake each” and the phrase that always works, “Share, or I will throw the Lego blocks/crayons/puzzles/books out.”
So, while I extol the virtues of sharing, I also realise the importance of a sense of ownership over each of their things. It teaches them responsibility and the very simple concept of taking care of their own area.
From now on, everything has its place in the house. My kids can no longer come running to me to ask where their stickers are, because they know where they are. That way, I can spend my time looking for things that I misplaced.
Elaine Dong will get her own life organised soon, she promises. She blogs at www.angelolli.com.
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