By Alex Iwashyna, blogger at Late Enough 
I reached a point in parenting, not too long ago, where I raised my eyes to the heavens, shook my fist and yelled: WHY CAN'T I HAVE NICE THINGS.
Things my children broke (in no particular order):
15 necklaces of mine including one with handmade beads by my friend A. Conveniently “beads” also mean “hockey pucks.” (Wait, does anyone in Richmond even know what those are anymore?)
Every other container that I bought to become AMAZINGLY ORGANIZED. As it turns out, my kids version of organized is somewhere between stepping on boxes and sitting in boxes and watching boxes being thrown out.
My heart. I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been on purpose. YET.
My husband’s glasses. Because “Hide the Glasses” is way more fun than hundreds of dollars worth of toys. Too bad I can't trade toys for eyewear. Or really for ANYTHING.
Multiple cats.
Why yes, I do have a cat collection and that does make me awesome. Well, until it mostly contsained incapacitated cats.
My rearview mirror. Because you can't see the car floor with it on the windshield!
3000 matchbox cars. If it's any indication of their future driving skills, I’ll be keeping my kids on an enclosed track until they’re 30. With their hatred of rearview mirrors, this is probably the right call anyway. Plus, look at all the cool things those enclosed track cars get to do in the commercials!
My shoes. MY SHOES. {insert crying and the tearing of hair}
Their own artwork. Like it's some sort of Freudian rebellion against my “THOSE ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BLUE BLOBS I'VE EVER SEEN!”
We take pictures to remember them by.
But, of course, PEOPLE are more important than THINGS. In other words, they have never broken my iPhone so I continue to love them.
