Lost and Found

Lost

The remote. It's always missing. I hate checking couch cushions as I usually find more than I wanted to find.

The gross out factor. If two years of poop and vomit fail to cure you of a weak stomach, nothing will.

Various hair bows, each costing between five and fifteen bucks (don’t tell my husband). They drop like flies around here.

Bottles. Also prone to mysterious disappearance.

Pride in personal appearance. Not completely gone, but dwindling.

Pacifiers. I believe there must be a trail of pacies throughout Central Arkansas that lead directly to our front door, a la Hansel and Gretel.

My mind. Last seen spring of 2007. Possible sighting in summer of 2008.

Self control, when it comes to dressing of little girls or decorating of little girls’ rooms.

My judgment of other women. You know, I really was the perfect mother before my children were born.

My certainty in the black/white world perspective. So much gray area.

Sleeping in. Weekends are nothing to a 10 month old and 2 year old.

My waist. It’s gone. Sigh.

Ability to afford Pottery Barn Kids.

Clean house. Maybe I will find it one day.

Self-doubt. Or at least most of it. Okay, some of it really is gone.

Found

Crayon scribbles in the pages of the novel I haven’t finished.

Terrible stains on upholstered seats of dining room chairs.

Confidence. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart.

Laundry. I swear, it breeds. My laundry baskets are nothing but orgies of clothing.

Tolerance for obnoxious cartoons and annoying toys, Bratz notwithstanding.

Disagreeable odor emanating from the Diaper Genie area of nursery.

Revived dedication to my heavenly Father, the perfect parent, and His Son, the perfect child.

Husband’s dirty socks tucked in cushions of couch. Ugh.

Unknown depths of compassion for mothers and children all over the world.

One set of purple and pink plastic play dishes, carefully placed in dishwasher with actual dirty dishes.

Reservoirs of patience.

Half eaten grilled cheese sandwich in drawer of living room inn table.

Disdain for so-called parenting experts and “sanctimommies.”

Sippy cup (previously missing) shoved under toddler’s bed, caked with old milk. Yes, I said caked.

Ability to stay up too late burning creative energy otherwise left to stagnate.

Adoration for Pottery Barn Kids.

Coffee addiction. Can’t go a day without.