Reset: The Unclaimed Sippy Cup (and Other Small Emergencies)
Because sometimes the panic is slow, the smell is strong, and the reset comes later.
Alright…
The smell of an unclaimed sippy cup.
You know the one.
The moment you open the car door, and it hits.
Not a punch — more like a slow betrayal. A creeping sense of dread wrapped in the unmistakable scent of something that used to be dairy.
It’s the fear of every minivan parent.
That smell.
The one that makes you question everything:
What even was that?
How long has it been there?
Is this how mold starts its takeover?
This isn’t about the cup.
Okay — it is about the cup.
But it’s also about what it represents.
Because here’s the truth: I didn’t notice it until I slowed down.
And slowing down? That’s the part I usually avoid.
Most days, I’m moving too fast to catch the cup.
Too busy loading backpacks, answering emails, diffusing sibling turf wars, planning dinner, fixing breakfast, and trying to remember which kid has baseball today.
The sippy cup only makes itself known when I pause long enough to smell the chaos I’ve been driving around with.
And isn’t that something?
There’s a lot I carry — quietly, subconsciously — until something small (and frankly disgusting) pulls it to the surface.
A missed moment.
An impatient tone.
A half-listened story.
A hug I shrugged off because I was “in the middle of something.”
Sometimes, I don’t realize how off I’ve gotten until the air changes.
Here’s what I’m learning:
The cup always turns up eventually.
The mess always makes itself known.
And when it does, I can either panic and spiral — or pause, breathe through the gag reflex, and deal with it.
Because parenting isn’t about controlling the chaos.
It’s about noticing the things we’d rather ignore.
And choosing presence anyway.
“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.”
— Psalm 139:23
That verse hits different when your car smells like defeat.
But honestly? That’s the prayer.
Not “Make everything easier,”
Not “Help me avoid the mess,”
But “Show me what I’ve missed. What I’ve buried. What I’ve been too busy to smell.”
The sippy cup is gross.
But it’s also grace.
Because it reminds me to slow down.
To check the corners.
To pay attention to what I’m carrying — and what I’ve left behind.
And maybe…
To start the week with a deep breath and a quick sweep of the backseat.
Just in case.