"The little things, little things they always hang around."

The little things drive me crazy. The big things drive me crazy too, but they should. When Abbie removes her poopy diaper and the boys play with its contents before I notice, I have every right to go crazy. That’s a big thing, and the temporary insanity helps black out the memories of smears everywhere.

When Abbie poops for the second time in a morning even though she rarely poops twice before noon, I should take off the dish gloves and change her without complaining about anything but the smell. Instead, I bemoan the time I lose for cleaning in my morning routine. I blame my untreated and undiagnosed OCD. That, and the sleep deprivation.

I’m learning to let the little things go. Abbie won’t eat her peaches? Give them to her brothers. The boys keep changing the channel during pivotal moments of March Madness? Watch the game in the other room where they can’t reach the television. Tory has been screaming for 20 minutes because I locked him out of the bathroom? Give him to momma. Some things still get to me, though. Apparently, lost sippy cups are one of those things.

I have a set routine* for who gets which sippy cups when. Each child has specific sippy cups assigned to him or her to eliminate confusion over whose germs are on which cup. If one of those sippy cups goes missing, it could throw the entire system out of whack, as Abbie might have to drink from an Ian cup, or Tory might have to drink from his bedtime cup during lunch. The world may then dissolve into nothingness after the ensuing tear in the fabric of space, or at least in the fabric of my psyche.

Losing sippy cups isn’t usually a problem. Our home is small enough to limit the number of spaces for them to hide. Plus, Abbie is usually the only one carrying a sippy cup around the house; the boys are still young enough that they’re always strapped into high chairs for milk. When one of their cups goes missing, it’s usually under a piece of kitchen furniture.

The exception to this strapped-in scenario is before bedtime. All three children still drink milk before bedtime because I haven’t altered their routine* since the newborn days. As long as they stop before college, it should be okay. I give each of them a sippy cup, and send them on their way while I finish chores. Sometimes a cup goes missing, but I can usually find it after a brief search.

I gave them their milk as usual last night, which Abbie quickly finished and threw on the floor. The boys, convinced that Abbie has something tastier in her cup than they do, commandeered the empty cup and sucked the final milk molecules from the bottom. I finished cleaning the kitchen, and hounded the boys to finish their milk since we needed to keep the bedtime routine* moving.

I loaded their empty cups into the dishwasher so we’d have clean cups to continue the routine* the next day, and realized Abbie’s cup was missing. The last place I saw it was in the kitchen, which I tore apart looking for it. It’s not under a table or chairs. It’s not under a cabinet. It’s not staring at me from the middle of the floor.

I moved out of the kitchen. It’s not in the hallway. It’s not on their bedroom floor. It’s not under a crib or bed. It’s not in a crib or bed. It’s not in a dresser drawer.

It’s still not in the hallway. It’s not on the living room floor. It’s not in the toy box. It’s not in the other toy box. It’s not on, in, or behind the couch.

I returned to the kitchen, repeating the search cycle* in case I missed something. In each cycle, I checked more ridiculous hiding spots. It’s not in the garbage. It’s not in the diaper pail. It’s not wedged in that one-inch gap between the wall and the entertainment center. It’s not in the bathroom even though the door has been shut for the past hour.

Thirty minutes and several nervous tics later, I gave up. The clock said it was time to put the kids down to sleep, but I hadn’t even changed them into pajamas. I had to let the cup go, and keep their bedtime routine* moving. I could keep searching after I put them down to sleep.

I swear I gave up after a brief search when they went down to sleep. I also swear I didn’t dream of sippy cups last night. Maybe I just blacked out those dreams.

I found the cup this morning. I should’ve checked the silverware drawer.

* There’s that OCD again.