Towanda

I think I'm having a mid-mid life crisis, because I just chopped my hair off, and I bought some crazy pants that are a wild deviation from my normally unremarkable wardrobe, and I put myself on a diet.
I'm not sure where this is coming from. Maybe it's the first signs of spring emerging from a dismal winter that make me feel like a new woman. Maybe my life has held fast to routine for so long that my psyche demands change before I have a nervous breakdown. Or maybe all the requests for bedtime stories about Pegasus Unicorn Princesses is slowly driving me insane. I can't really say. But I can say that I feel like I can conquer the world, and I'm slightly concerned for anybody who decides to cut me off in traffic.
https://youtu.be/lx0z9FjxP-Y

Lost

I can’t find my dustpan. This is a problem because a dustpan does not travel very far. It emerges twice—who am I kidding, maybe once—each day from the side of the fridge and then it gets shoved right back in there 30 seconds later when its job is through. This leads me to believe that one of the littles stole it, and it is therefore lost forever, or at least won’t be found for months until I randomly find it stuffed in the barbecue outside or something. Hmm. Mental note to check barbecue later. I think somewhere out there is a vortex of knickknack hostages. Every kid knows to take their parents’ important stuff there to disappear—just like every kid knew to blow into their Nintendo game every time it froze back in the 90s. It’s right up there with the infant sucking reflex. Kids are just born knowing this stuff, people.

So far I’ve lost approximately nine spoons, a dozen shoes (they never lose both shoes; just one shoe from every pair they own so they’re all worthless), dental floss, a can opener, and about a hundred sippy cups. Sippy cups are the calling card of the Miskin family. If we’ve been to your house, chances are you have one of our sippy cups under your couch. We won’t talk about all the toys we’ve left places, because it’s one of my best de-cluttering methods. Who cares about a few lost barbies, but try making soup without a can opener. It’s about as easy as EATING the soup without spoons.

The bully

I have yet to figure out exactly what to say to another parent after my own child hurts their kid. After all, she's, three, and I'm pretty sure she'll grow out of it--or at least I think she will. Otherwise I'm raising the world's first female bouncer. Like, isn't "Hey, I'm sorry Alaina pushed Gavin off a bridge" or  "Myles may have a bruise because Alaina strangled him with the curtain sash today" a bit inadequate? (Yes, both of these things really happened.)
The girl can be ruthless. She will search out a weak spot and destroy--and she likes to practice on her brother. (At least this way I don't have to apologize to anyone, right?) Jesse  got stitches after he sliced his nose open when he fell and hit our tv stand. So naturally, now when Jesse annoys Alaina, she pokes him IN THE NOSE. What's a mom to do! I feel so conflicted, because if I'm too lenient she may start torturing animals and then become a serial killer. Too harsh and I may crush that bright and spunky spirit that I love so much. No pressure.