One of Those Days

Today was one of those days. Some days are just like that, I guess.
Some days, you have to go to Home Depot to get a new mounting bracket for a light fixture you are trying to replace in the hallway. Some days, you have three children with you (one is at preschool). Two of those children may be completely fascinated by all of the shiny nuts, bolts and washers arrayed in manly looking containers in the hardware area. Some days, they may want to grab handfuls and toss them into the air or make their own special hardware mix while you are looking for the right bracket. Some days, your 18-month-old might refuse to sit in the child seat of the shopping cart. He also may not want to sit in the basket. He might not want to walk either, or be held. He may insist on standing, precariously, with one foot on the handle of the shopping cart and the other on the plastic child seat like some crazy pirate captain in the prow of his ship. Some days, he might scream loudly and continuously while you try to wrestle him back into the seat, monitor the twins, look for the bracket and push the cart at the same time. Those screams may echo weirdly in the warehouse style store. You might run into people you barely know and who will likely now judge you on the echoing screams emanating from the person in your cart. Some days, you might be asked repeatedly by store employees to control your semi-standing, screaming child. You may have to just smile apologetically and ignore them while you check out, weary but victorious, with the appropriate mounting bracket.
On one of those days, you may also have to go to Walmart because it is right next to Home Depot and because you need a toddler mattress, vitamins and craft paint. You may only have thirty minutes to complete the shopping trip because now it is almost time to pick up child number four from preschool. To your great relief, even on one of those days, your children may be well behaved. However, the store only carries toddler mattresses decorated with pink castles and tiaras. Some days, the world does not seem to care that you only have boys in your house. Some day, those boys will likely be talking to their therapists about how their trouble started when they had to sleep on a mattress decorated with pink castles and tiaras. Some days, you buy the girly mattress anyway because you tell yourself that you are a girl and it is okay to have some girly things in the house and frankly you are too exhausted to even think about going to another store to look at toddler mattresses. Some days, you just get your craft paint, your vitamins, your pink mattress and you check out.
Some days, your 18-month-old is so happy holding the bag with the vitamins and craft paint that he doesn't even complain or arch his back while you are buckling him into his carseat. You might decide to let him keep holding the bag. After all, the vitamins and the paints all have an inner seal that he can't open even if he manages to twist the lids off.
On one of those days, the acrylic non-washable craft paints may not have an inner seal like you thought they did. You might learn this when you pull up to the preschool pick-up line and hop out of the van to pass out some fruit snacks to the boys because they were so good in Walmart and you are so happy not to be running late to pick up your 3-year-old. Some days, you open the van door and scream "Benjamin! No!" because you see that he has dumped the entire bottle of ivory paint into his lap and carseat. It may be a rare warm fall day, so all the other parents have their windows open and hear you yelling at your child. Some days, there is just nothing you can do to prevent an entire outfit and carseat from being ruined. Some days, little ivory fingerprints might appear all over your car because you have to get your child out of his carseat to save his shoes and assess the damage. He, of course, manages to inflict maximum damage even though you thought you cleaned his hands with a wet wipe.
Some days, you may go home for lunch and realize that you can't clean the carseat right now because you still have to take the twins to and from afternoon preschool and the 18-month-old has to ride in something. There is not enough time to uninstall, disassemble, wash, dry, reassemble and reinstall the carseat. This means that of the rest of the day the 18-month-old may sit on a slightly damp, painty towel wearing only his diaper and an ivory colored hoodie in order to prevent any more ruined outfits.
On one of those days, you might also discover, during lunchtime, that two very large holes have appeared in your guest room sheets. These holes look like they were cut by a scissor-wielding 4-year-old. They were. The guilty party's twin may want to take the cut out pieces for show-and-tell so he can tell about how he makes good choices and his brother makes bad choices. Some days, you just say no.
Some days, when you have finally dropped the twins off at preschool and put the 18-month-old down for a nap you finally get to enjoy some cuddle time with your 3-year-old. Some days, he might choose this tender moment to inform you that you need a nose job. "Mom, your nose is a little bit cute but if you go to the doctors you can get a nose that is so much cute!" Some days, you wonder who your son hangs out with at preschool and if their moms have noses that are "so much cute".
On one of those days, the 18-month-old may wake up far too early from his nap. He will spend the rest of the day making the sound of ultimate suffering but at a higher eardrum-shattering pitch. He might make this sound anytime someone touches him, touches a toy he is holding, picks up something he wanted to pick up, looks at him the wrong way, or breathes in his general direction. Some days, after you bring the twins home from school everyone might fight. A lot. About nothing. Some days, you will put the gate up in the kitchen and try to at least unload the dishwasher so you can make dinner. You may listen to the angry, noisy chaos that is currently your house and wonder if you could record it and sell the sound track to the Chinese government to help them sell their one-child policy or perhaps to high school health teachers who are trying to convince teens of the value of abstinence. Some days, it is hard to see the humor in the thick of the moment. Some days you might even cry, but that's okay. Every day is not one of those days. Besides, when you've had one of those days there is nothing sweeter than the sound of your husband opening the door when he comes home from work. Nothing sweeter, except maybe when he says "Hi, honey. It sounds like you had a rough day. I brought home dinner." Some days, you just might feel incredibly blessed.