A what? Good question. A hunter-downer mom is someone who conducts a massive search with the whole family in tow every time his or her child loses a belonging. Sound a little over the top? Perhaps. But it's the reason why I have been able to hold onto most of my boys' stuff without having to spend money on replacements.
Single mothers like me can't afford to keep buying backup winter accessories, school supplies, and the like. We must be pragmatic by doing all we can to retrieve what's ours. I remember discussing this topic with a well-off married mother in my town. "Ugh," she said. "I can't be bothered to hunt down that crap. We just grab another pair of gloves at the store or whatever." Indeed, the foyer to their home was stocked with children's gear aplenty.
But I have a sneaking suspicion that I would be a hunter downer regardless of my income. It's just the way I am. At first I am annoyed at my son's carelessness. Then I think about it and realize that I am excited about the challenge. I smell it and savor it like Prince Charles pursuing a fox on the Duke of Beaufort's Hunt. Where's my scarlet coat?!
Everybody knows little boys are careless. My oldest would forget his floppy red hair if it wasn't growing out of his scalp. At school pickup every day, I have to consciously check that he has all his belongings at school pickup behind the building every day. "Christopher, where is your jacket?" Scrunched up in his backpack. "Hat and gloves?" In the side pockets. No . . . wait! Only one glove is there. "Come on, Christopher. Not again! Okay, back inside. You, too, Charlie." The moaning and whining would ensue, but they would have no effect because the boys know it is a hopeless cause trying to argue with Hunter-Downer Mom when she is on a mission.
Full disclosure: I am an excellent hunter downer.
I have managed to find nearly every misplaced item since my second-grader was in preschool. My son's hat went missing from his school cubby hole the last day of winter. I kid you not. Why is it always the last day or first day? The black fleece hat from REI has a red, white, and blue tassel sprouting off the top and thirteen colorful world flags extending along its bottom edge. It is really cool-looking and gives the impression the wearer is worldly. In actuality, Christopher has never left the country. He does possess a wide knowledge of the world for a child his age, however. That's due to hearing about current events from his news-junkie mother and stories she told him about her pre-motherhood foreign travels.
At preschool one day, I rummaged through my son's backpack. Then I poked around in other kids' cubby holes. Top to bottom I searched the place, including the "bike side"--a paved area for playing basketball and driving kids' vehicles--as well as the yard on the other side of the house/school. I talked to the director, the second in charge, and the teachers on duty. Could any of them recall where Christopher might have left his hat?
Negative.
Convinced another child mistakenly took it, I got to work once I got home. I pulled out pen and paper and drew up a sign. Correction: A Missing Hat Poster. No, no, no, I know what you're thinking. I did NOT make it on giant poster board, just a piece of notebook paper. Yes, I can be a little intense sometimes, but I'm not a lunatic, for Pete's sake! Honestly, it turned out to be a pretty good rendition, if I say so myself. In fact, I liked it so much that I have kept it all these years. Anyway I thumbtacked it to the school bulletin board and waited for the calls about sightings to come pouring in. (Joke.)
Waiting, waiting. Still waiting! No calls.
But I got the hat back, and once again my son looks like he just stepped off the Milford Track in New Zealand. Terrific. Time to add one more tiny detail: I hunted that thing down with the best of my abilities. However, it didn't show up anywhere I expected it to. Embarrassment alert: I discovered it in my house . . . my messy house. Looks like the hat didn't make it to school that day after all!
Oops. Someone else seems to also be forgetful.
I'm sure you can see my point: It pays (or, rather, keeps you from paying) to be a hunter downer. In the past few years, I have retrieved single gloves, a pair of gloves, a single mitten, a pair of mittens, a couple of hats, a sweatshirt, a school folder, winter boots, a tee ball mitt, a beach shovel, and a lunch box. Lots of successes and very few failures, among those: a bathing suit, a pair of cleats, and a Batman-themed glove. I blame myself for the last of these because I couldn't lead an investigation the day it disappeared. We had something going on that afternoon, probably a sports clinic, and I get charged for those as well. So let's see: a glove I got for free from the preschool director vs. a sports clinic.
Easy decision.
One time my younger son--an eager and clever hunter downer in his own right--and I tracked down his Toy Story backpack at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. We had to act at that ungodly hour since his basketball clinic started at 8, and I was not about to let him skip it. We scoured every square inch of the grounds behind the school, but it was not there. Then Charlie thought to look on the windowsill outside his classroom, and that's where we found it.
Another day the quest resulted in an awesome confluence of good fortune. A search of the same outdoor area just as it was getting dark provided a bonus The Amazing Race sort of challenge--flashlights not included! Aha. Christopher's glove was located on the floor right in front of his locker during an end-of-day dash inside the building. And his after-school jazz/hip hop dance class in another community was not even sacrificed! I dreaded waiting around at the Y with boisterous Charlie, so this hunt gave us something to do.
Late breaking news: Against all odds, part of the missing Batman-themed glove turned up after being gone for at least two months! Hunter-Downer-In-Training Charlie spotted it in the grass next to the side bushes behind the school while playing with friends after kindergarten early dismissal. "Mommy, Mommy!" he cried, running toward me. "You're not going to believe what I just found!" He opened his fist to reveal the crumpled and torn pinkie and ring-finger section of the right glove. It looked like an animal had attacked it . . . or a pair of scissors.
Useless yet fabulous. It's just this kind of incredible stroke of synchronicity that makes me feel truly connected to the universe.
I think I want to be a detective when I grow up.
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