All. The. Cups.

Cups. All kids of cups. Sippy cups, coffee cups, water cups. Am I the only one who has 397,389 cups but can’t find a single. darn. cup. ever.?!? Mama, I need water! {no prob- let me just open this here “sippy cup cabinet” and get you a… dear lord. One freaking ‘take and toss’ bottom and a Contigo top. Crap.} 

I must disclose that there is a black hole that eats some of these cups. The car. I am trying my darndest to keep Bertha from this problem, but it will be inevitable. We were on our way to Northbrook Court last week and I gave in and both kids had sippys in the car. Four and a half minutes into the drive, I hear a thud. I look back (in my ever so fancy panoramic mirror… I know you are all jealous). S isn’t holding her cup and looks at me with her side eye and says “Done!”. Gee, Thanks. Glad we all slam out cups down like we are in a college keg beer chugging contest with red solo cups. I digress. 6 minutes later, B starts laughing and I see that not only is his sippy on the floor, but it was a crappy one with a dishwasher warped lid and is leaking. All over Bertha. Sorry, Girl. 

I can complain all I want about my kids and their sippys, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I certainly don’t lady chug my drinks and smash them on the floor like a viking with her mead cup, but there are currently 4 cups in my car. I cant carry those darn things in along with a 2 and 1 year old. You’ve lost your mind if you think I can carry all of those in plus a backpack, coat (the most pointless and frustrating part of a toddler) and a bag of toys that my pack-rat 2 year old brings with her. Once I bring the offspring in, its like I’ve unleashed feral kittens into a giant field. They both run off like zombies and I start sweating trying to transition us to the next thing. If I’m lucky, B will get into the high chair before he knows whats happening so that I can avoid the back arch and flip over move. S will drunken toddler around the kitchen and playroom until I strap her in her booster seat. Thank goodness for deli meat and cheese. It is the appetizer of toddlers. It buys me 3 minutes so I can slap some PB and J onto bread and call it a lunch. So the cups stay in the car. And thus, Bertha is a black hole. 

For Christmas, Santa brought brand new Contigo cups for S and B. Certainly, we will ONLY put water in these and we wont lose them, right? Wrong. 22 minutes after the stockings were empty, the cups with fresh water in them were gone. Did they slide up the chimney, scared of the two terror feral cat like children who had started chewing on them already? No. They were (as we figured out a day later) stuffed into a giant glass vase on the floor (Why do I have a glass vase out with a 1 and 2 year old? Because I’m nuts. And I need a darn glass vase to feel adult. And I’m nuts. I know.) and left there to die a slow moldy death. 

On any one given day, I would imagine that we have at least 16 dirty cups laying around the house. Do my kids need this much liquid? Heck no. But if I am going to be considered a “bad mom” it certainly WILL NOT be because of dehydration. 

So when it comes down to it, I will never win my battle with cups. At least not until S and B reach an age where they can wash and reach their own cups. Or at minium when they can drink out of a cup without looking like they are on a late night party episode of Jersey Shore. Do I care? Yes. Sometimes. Does hubs care? For sure. I’m certain that 1/3 of his balding comes from the dishes/cup sitch that has plagued us for the past couple of years. Will we live? Certainly- until the next phase, keep on chugging, throwing cups, and drinking enough coffee to power a rocket. #themotherhoodisreal