Then it was the series of bathroom products, including Sarna Lotion (have you smelled that shit?) and toothpaste, off my daughter's sheets - that after I had already washed them just to wash them.
So much for being proactive.
I found string cheese in my silverware drawer and a ball of lox (yes, lox) in the toy bin.
And to top it all off, my son, the evil culprit in this scheme to break me before the month's end, decided to turn himself into a tiger using a black whiteboard marker.
I practically thanked him for using something that I could wash off with a washcloth.
I do my best to start the day with patience, you know, the whole "yell when I'm happy, whisper when I'm mad," but after the third shit pile and the carpet permanently inked with toddler scribblings, I'm beaten into submission.
I have yet to find the one thing that actually works, other than give him my complete and constant attention or stick him in front of the television for the entire day.
The whole 123 Magic is a little complicated when the negative behaviors are coming so rapidly that I don't even remember what number I'm on.
"Wait, I think I was on one now three, oh shit kid just go to the corner."
After giving stickers and taking toys, last night I finally had to put him back in his old room, in his empty crib, in the complete dark and let him scream for a solid 10 minutes so I could scrub toothpaste off my daughter's sheets.
His nearly three-dom ebbs and flows, from entertaining chatter to constant, almost to-the-minute battles, where within seconds unattended, he's wrestling and nudging one or both of the girls.
Cue screaming, shrieking, and the under-5 super duper lightweight bout in my living room.
I realize I need to pay more attention to my Cesar Millan approach with him - you know, walking him until he's butt tired and all he can do is submit.
But that's hard when it's pouring outside and you've got two other kids and you actually need to get a little bit of work done.
Hell, I'll take even one coherent uninterrupted email.
I'm doing my best to unplug, even though much of what (and who) is keeping me sane these days happens to be online.
And I want to savor this time we have together because all too soon there will be no messes left to clean up and the only artwork he'll have on his body was tattooed on by some guy name Joe-Bob.
All I can say is that it damn sure better say "Mom."