It's Been One of Those Days...

It's been one of those days...  You know the kind.

I went to Target and let Johnny Scott, the boy who insists on growing up, walk instead of ride in the cart.  We were checking out the dollar bins when I heard a huge smashing of glass.  Yep, it was Johnny Scott production:  he had grabbed a railing on a shelf, loosened it, and all the glass vases came crashing down in pieces all around him (he was fine).

After recovering from this mess, I went out to the van in the parking lot.  Both sliding doors were left wide open.  Smooth, Mandi.

I came home to the most rancid smell in the laundry room.  Without even taking time to take my purse off my shoulder, I tore that room apart until I discovered the foul culprit:  a stiff towel used to clean up rotten milk.  Blah.  It was so hopeless it went straight into the outside garbage can.

And, to complicate things, we are doing this, again:

Yep, potty training for Kid #3.  Never a painless experience.  It was his idea, I swear.  I have not encouraged this three-year-old to dump the diapers at all.  I was fine with the status quo, but he is determined to grow up.

I just spent 20 minutes reading "The Berenstain Bears" sitting on the floor of our bathroom.  Just waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting.  It worked :)

The dog got out AGAIN.  I threw Underwear Boy in the car (sans shorts) and we made our regular rounds around the neighborhood to find our overly social Buddy.  I heard where he was before I found him:  absolutely terrorizing two chihuahuas who were leaping all the way up to their owner's shoulders.  These dogs were catching so much air they must have a vertical leap that rivals LeBron James.  It was quite impressive, actually.  I sped the car toward the screaming dogs, opened the van door, yelled Buddy's name, he turned and soared into the car and I peeled out making a speedy getaway, lamely yelling an apology out my window to the poor chihuahua owner with the claw marks down her cheeks.

When I got home, I was determined to start getting something done (it was nearly noon)  and was glad  Johnny Scott was keeping himself busy with the new buckets I got for him this morning.  I'm so clever.  I walked into the kitchen to find this:  

Apparently, he decided it was time to plant a garden --  IN MY KITCHEN.   And, of course, the new buckets were not cutting it, so he had to use my bowls, cups, colander, and utensils.  

Well, I tell myself, at least I got my workout in.  I went through the entire hour, rocked out to "Eye of the Tiger" (yea for Pandora for slipping that one in!), went to stretch afterward and caught a glance of this:

Yes, two different socks.
And no one even said anything.
Now, THAT is funny.

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