I’ve always been a bit particular about my possessions. Early in my relationship with my partner, we found ourselves at a drive-thru one evening. Our vehicle was a complete mess since I had been staying over at a friend’s place for a wedding. When the cashier handed my partner a handful of change, he casually tossed it onto the console. Imagine rolling dice on a table, but in the dark confines of a car; that change vanished into the depths of clutter. I was horrified and lost my cool.
My partner instantly became defensive, saying, “Your car is a total disaster, why do you care where I put the change?” My recollection of my response is fuzzy, but I likely attempted to be calm while validating his feelings. What emerged from this argument was a realization that when my belongings are treated carelessly, regardless of their condition, I feel disrespected.
As I entered my thirties, I believed I had matured in this regard. I no longer hovered over friends, stressing about how they used my flat iron. “Don’t press it too hard; the ceramic might break!” was my constant refrain in college. Honestly, it’s a miracle I made any friends at all. Perhaps what I considered maturity was merely a shift in circumstances. As an adult, I found I didn’t have to share my things as frequently—until I had kids.
Now, I find myself in a constant battle. My children are always getting into my belongings, and it’s driving me to the brink. Just today, while folding laundry for a brief six minutes, one of my lovely kids decided that my designer sunglasses only needed one arm. Seriously, what the heck!? When I question them about it, they just turn to watch a show, seemingly unfazed by my frustration. I explain how much I love those glasses, how expensive they were, but they don’t seem to care.
My mother wisely suggested, “Put your valuable items up high where they can’t reach them.” Sure, I’ll try to be more proactive about securing things that could be damaged. But tell me, how do I foresee them removing the handles from my dining room buffet? Why on earth would they take a knob off the furniture and then forget about it entirely? Where could it possibly be?
Every glance at that missing handle makes me feel disheartened. I swear I’ve child-proofed everything, but it doesn’t seem to help. In the past month alone, they’ve managed to ruin:
- My bronzer
- A full bag of Neutrogena makeup remover wipes
- Three packs of gum
- Every bottle of water I was drinking while they decided to take a sip with a mouthful of food
- My nasal spray
- My hairspray
- One slipper
- A personalized wine glass
- A necklace I was wearing
- Two book covers
It’s hard to accept that the fate of everything I own feels perpetually at risk. I wish I could get a toddler insurance policy. Is it really too much to ask a 2 and 4-year-old to simply stop messing with my things? For more insights on navigating parenting challenges, check out this engaging article on intracervicalinsemination.com. If you’re looking for expert advice on home insemination, Make a Mom is a great resource, and for more information on pregnancy, visit WebMD.
In summary, parenting is filled with the frustration of trying to protect our belongings from our little ones, who seem to have no regard for the value of what they touch.