I dove in the dumpster today. It was not how I was planning on beginning my day. I was planning to begin my day slowly… Drink a glass of water, make a juice, and enjoy a cup of coffee before heading out to Bible study. Instead, I dug through trash.
Let me explain. My boys have these mugs. These mugs are perfect for them. My husband brought them back to the boys from Belize when he was on a mission trip last summer. They are tiny, about 5 ounces. These mugs are treasured in our home. We have been using them lately for their green juice, but the mugs have also been known to hold hot chocolate on a cold day (so like, 4 days out of the year here.)
ANYWAY, so I noticed last night as I’m washing dishes that I only washed 1 tiny mug instead of 3, but didn’t think much of it. I figured the other 2 boys weren’t done yet, and I’d be washing those mugs later. Not the case. The mugs never showed. So when I went to pour the juice this morning, I asked the boys what happened to their mugs.
Tim: “I put it in the sink.” I kinda gave him a blank stare, to which he replied, “I put it in the sink carefully.” Ok, on to the next one.
Isaac: “I put it in the trash. I put TWO mugs in the trash.” Face. Palm. He is on this kick to put dishes in the trash. You gotta watch him, but I wasn’t watching him like a hawk last night because I was busy cleaning for College Group (we invite college students over for a Bible study) while the kids were drinking their juice. Keep in mind, he is also 2.
So, I tried to psych myself up to do this. You can do this. It’s YOUR trash… Mostly, your trash plus all the trash from the college group last night, and all those egg shells from this morning, and those diapers. Yeah, it’s gonna be great. These mugs are worth it!
I recruited my husband to hold open an empty trash bag while I carefully went through the contents of our trash can, looking for the mugs. I got to the very bottom of the trash. The mugs were not in there.
Dirty diapers were in there. Empty root beer bottles were in there. Used paper plates and plastic cups were in there. But the mugs were not in there.
Me: “I don’t get it. I’ve looked everywhere. In their rooms, under the couch, now I’ve dug through our entire trash can. Why can’t I find these mugs?!”
Nathan (my man): “Are you sure he threw them in this trash bag?”
Me: “What do you mean this trash bag?”
Nathan: “Remember? You took the trash out right before College Group.” Face. Palm. Again. Except this time my palm is covered in cinnamon roll residue that I didn’t even get to enjoy last night because I started my clean eating plan yesterday.
Me: “Babe! Why didn’t you tell me that BEFORE I dug through all this trash?!”
Nathan: “I dunno. I figured you knew what you were doing.” But I didn’t. It’s a pretty safe assumption that I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.
So, I did what any self respecting person would do. I marched straight to the dumpster outside, pulled out the trash bag (which really is more of a dive when you’re short), opened up the bag that I had thrown out the previous night, and there they were. Those two tiny Belize mugs, covered in discarded guacamole and brown rice.