It's been a DAY

It's been a day.
You know, one of those days.

The kind where you can't figure out how to get all the adorable pictures of your baby off of your phone and onto the computer.

The kind where you leave your wallet in the car that your husband decided to take to work...the car that you always drive because it's your car, and the car that the baby's carseat base is in. Yes, I am feeling lazy...so the carseat base is a beautiful thing. You never worry about him taking your car, because he always ALWAYS takes frontrunner to work anyway.

The kind where you have to stop at the bank and actually go inside to beg them to give you some money without I.D. because you have to buy groceries...one of those groceries being one gallon of milk that you've been asked to provide for the family cabin trip that begins tonight.

The kind where you get back into your husbands car and realize that the gas light has been on, for who knows how long. You only have enough money to buy your groceries, not gas for the car.

The kind where you try to grocery shop as quickly as you can because your baby is fussing the entire time and it feels like everyone's eyes are burning holes through your body because of it. The kind where you don't know what to do, because normally your baby is so sweet through grocery shopping!

The kind where you end up seeing everyone you know, despite the fact that you really don't have the time, or the senses to be visiting with anyone right now (cue crying baby with spit up all over him, and fibbing comments of "oh he's so......cute......?").

The kind where you finally make it back to the big, tall car (your husbands car, without the carseat base), get the baby all buckled in, and realize that you're 200 yards away from any grocery cart return. It is so bloody hot that you are now required to un-buckle your crying, sad, tired, messy baby and carry him with you as you return your cart. Then repeat the process to get him back into the big, tall car.

The kind where you begin to take the groceries out of the big, tall car, and the one gallon of milk falls out. The bottom of the jug busts completely open, spraying its contents all over you, the car, the baby, the barking dog, the porch, the driveway, and the road.

The kind where you pull the dirty hose out of the garage to clean up the smelly milk mess, and now you're a smelly, milky, dirty, watery mess, and so is your dog and your baby.

The kind where you wish you hadn't checked the mail (I should place a "return to sender" stamp on all of those insane medical bills...).

The kind where, no matter how awful the days events have been, you still try your hardest to see the glass half full.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.