Those Days

There are days, and there are days.

There are days when you have to throw a load of laundry back into the washer--and the clothes are still warm from the dryer--because in the two seconds it took for you to get them out of the dryer and procrastinate on folding, the cat jumped into the basket and decided it looked like a litter box to her. Those days bring me a little bit closer to a new rug made out of cat fur. Kidding.

Plotting something nefarious.

There are days when you go to make beans and rice only to discover that the can of kidney beans you could've sworn you bought at the commissary last week is no longer in the pantry--so you decide that you must've just forgotten and make sausage and veggies and rice instead--only later to come upon Bruiser systematically emptying the canned foods shelf of your pantry straight into the trash can. Those days you just have to laugh. And fish a few things out of the trash can.

There are days when your daughter refuses to nap until you change her into a different dress and then continues to refuse to nap (LOUDLY) until you fix her hair for her. Because, you know, the house might catch on fire while she's napping and she wouldn't want the hunky firemen to see her at less than her best. Or so I assume. Those days you get a little nervous about the teenage years.

There are days when your husband uses the word "nerd" as a verb. Those days are awesome.

I know, right?

There are days Tiny wakes up the twins halfway through nap time by kicking on the wall because he doesn't want a nap and I miraculously manage to get all three of them back to sleep. Those days are a mix between mind-numbingly mad and mind-blowingly awesome.

There are days your replacement cell phone is supposed to come in...and it doesn't. No comment.

There are days when an emergency mid-week commissary run means a loaf of bread and three bags of coffee. Those days you should also pick up a bottle of super expensive Italian lemon juice because of course.

This picture is indicative of so much about that kid.

There are days when you get back from your run and stumble upon a flock of ten wild turkeys swaggering across your front yard in the pink dawn light and can't decide whether you should just stand there with your jaw dropped or get a better hold on the dog's leash--and those days just feel like a perfect metaphor for life.

There are days, and there are days. Thank goodness for all the crazy and the ability to laugh, even if sometimes the laughing part doesn't show up until after the kids are finally in bed and my feet are propped up and the Man has swept up the carpet of rice that has taken over under the dining room table. The crazy part is pretty much always in effect.