Children, lipsticks and parables (Day 305, Year 2)

I am currently on break from parenting duties that include prying a shampoo bottle cap out of a drain placed in 1953 and passing out consequences for this situation, which also included the use of several of my lipsticks as crayons. 

Friends, if you are any sort of friend to me, you know my lipsticks are like the kind, patient, perfect children I'll never have. The children I do have are brilliant creatures--radiant in beauty and chaos. 

Lipsticks do not put shampoo bottle caps inside of drains placed in 1953. Lipsticks just don't do that! They just sit there and wait to do what they are told!

I am not saying I prefer children to lipsticks. I am saying I prefer the behavior of my lipsticks to my children tonight. 

Not one older adult in my life prepared me for these parts of parenting. NOT A SINGLE ONE--I AM LOOKING AT YOU MOM AND DEARLY DEPARTED DAD AND ALL MY GRANDPARENTS AND SEVERALS DEAD AUNTS AND UNCLES.  None of them said, "Hey Trish, if you have kids and an old house and shampoo, buckle up and learn how to use found objects as tools."

They did not even ever recommend meditation or yoga as a means not to be filled with Godzilla like rage. 

They literally said nothing. 

NOT ONE WORD.

My grandmother did tell me about lipstick and the importance of wearing it daily. Perhaps this was meant to be a parable that meant "Only have children if you know the appropriate consequences for the use of lipsticks as crayons."

And friends, I have no idea! I certianly cannot use crayons as lipstick. This certainly does not work. I settled on the taking of things with meaning: iPads, X box and the bag of Halloween candy (which I just stress ate out of).  I asked for money to replace my lipsticks, but my son pointed out that he is only 9 years old and not allowed to work. He then returned to his favorite argument that adults are hoarding all the money and jobs from children.

No one ever mentioned that they'd argue with you over nonsense and you would be unable to disengage and find yourself shouting "SWEATSHOPS ABUSE CHILDREN! YOU SHOULD BE THANKING THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE YOU ENSURING YOU CAN GO TO SCHOOL INSTEAD OF MAKING SNEAKERS" while using a pair of scissors to repeatedly and angrily stab a hole in the center of the shampoo bottle cap inside of the drain from 1953 in order to get the water to drain from the sink. 

I mean why am I arguing?

I lose every time mostly because they are so cute, occasionally say a nice word to me and when they turn their mad hatter skills on the world, I am entertained. And because, I finally stabbed a hole in the shampoo cap and the water is draining and I guess this is how we live now, with a partially clogged drain and a pair of scissors stashed in the bathroom for parenting emergencies.