I am becoming known as the person who never returns text messages.

 
It’s not that I don’t want to return them, it’s that I don’t know I’ve received them.

 
I usually keep my phone in the van, sometimes it’s plugged into the charging device so it’s always at 110% which is ideal for taking in all of those missed texts but not ideal for someone looking to use a lighter.

 
Sometimes it’s in the freezer next to the tv convertor and possibly my collection of shower caps that I never seem to be able to find when I need them.

 
Yesterday at the kids’ cross country meet, another Mom sent me a message that I responded to a respectable 2 hours later, long after the meet was over and I was en route to the grocery store.

 
I apologized for my poor returning etiquette and she agreed, I was the worst person to ever own a phone.

 
Case in point, moments earlier, I had encouraged Ellie to phone home and tell her Dad how excited she was to have finished her cross country race.

 
I handed her my phone, told her to press “redial” and speak to her Dad.

 
When she said it was telling her to leave a message on the machine, she handed me back the phone and without listening to the prompt, I left a message about how hard Ellie had worked despite how cold and tired she was.

 
I told Greg how proud I was of Ellie and how Hanna would be running soon. I may have asked him to keep an eye open for the remote and caps.

 
When I spoke to Greg a little later he asked, “How did the girls do at the cross country meet?”

 
I asked him if he had received the message we left earlier.

 
Nope.

 
Oh, because I had left a message not with Greg but with the last person I had called, a family whose daughter was waiting to be picked up after a swim meet a day earlier.

 
In fairness, their number was dangerously similar to ours. Dangerously.

 
I know they’re proud of Ellie.