It's Saturday. And hubs is long gone working.
I wake to a daughter hovering over me panting something about a plugged up toilet. Great. Just what a girl loves to hear upon waking.
I had envisioned a fun day with the kiddos. Possibly a movie after chores? A day at the park? However, long gone are the days that the kiddos were easy to please or entertain. "Nooooo" seemed to come at me in whiney unison. I'm loathing these tween years more and more.
Then I spent the better part of the day just trying to keep them on task.
Pokey had a hurt finger that for sure needed a cast. And Little Man could find every excuse in the book to not finish those dishes. 2 hours seems a bit much for such a tiny task.
Now for dinner. Hubs and I had already had a dinner out to celebrate our anniversary on Thursday. Nothing fancy. Those days are behind us too. But this was the actual day and I decided a nice warm dinner upon his arrival home from work might be nice.
Alfredo, bruschetta, and a salad. Simple enough.
But the alfredo boiled over. Then scorched. And the bread burned TO.A.CRISP.
Little Man was still under foot finishing the dishes. And I may or may not have had a slip of the tongue when I burned myself.
Then hubs called. It was already after 7. I chewed him out because nothing was going right and he shouldn't be getting home so late.
I decided a frozen pizza would have to suffice.
Little man has a nozzle malfunction and water sprays all across the kitchen.
I decide to throw in some bread sticks at the last minute. I warm the pizza sauce in the microwave.
Hubs enters the picture carrying a bouquet of tulips for our anniversary. And now I feel extra horrible. My gift is a scorched dinner. I haven't showered. And I chewed him out on the phone. Not exactly the "love you too honey" kind of gift.
Then he goes to wipe the pizza sauce off the bottom of the container and somehow manages to dump it all down the front of his shirt.
Pokey goes to the fridge for some ranch and slips leaving a welt on her face and side. She is crying. Hubs is wiping red sauce from his work shirt. Little Man is laughing. Half of our dinner is burned. By now the frozen pizza is nearly cold. And all I want to do is cry. Happy Anniversary, honey.