No Control

Control is a big deal. I think Quinn is cutting her hair one small chuck at a time everyday at school to gain some strange sense of control over her life. I try not to make a big deal about it, especially since I have no proof because her hair is curly and crazy. I just know it looks a lot different lately, and she either puts on her lying face when she tells me she did not cut it or tells me some elaborate story about how she cut it that is clearly not what really happen.

Control is hard. I have a lot of things in my life that are out of control, and I would like to list them. I can control this list.

• McKenna goes in my closet and messes up my clothes and shoes. I find things all over the house. I hate it.
  
• McKenna goes in Quinn's closet and messes up her clothes and shoes. I find things all over the house. I hate it. Surprisingly, I do not think Quinn cares.
• McKenna found a stash of clothes that are too big for her and too small for Quinn, and she wears them or drags them all over the house.
  
• Quinn will not wear what I want her to wear.
  
• I can not get Quinn hair to look that way I want -- impromptu hair cuts aside.
  
• Tim is in charge of the yard, and I have no say.
• My laundry baskets broke, and the new ones are too small.
  
• I lost the Apple TV remote, and I can't figure out how to program my phone to be the new remote.
  
• I asked Tim to kill the Wasps that are all over the front door and the back door. He has not done it, and I really can't handle doing it myself.
  
• I need to start washing my laundry in hot water, but I am not good enough at sorting colors, so I stick to cold. It is not really working anymore.
  
• My baby is allergic to formula.
• Time -- hours in the day -- seem to be going by fast. (This is good during the day, and sad during my quiet alone time at night.