A lot can happen within a 4.5 hour period in my life. And thus, at 630p it began. Abe got home from work to a frazzled and near Vodka shooting wife yesterday. It seems as though my sweet son is getting that attitude in the late afternoon where nothing I do, say, dance, or sing helps him be happy. I give him water- he throws it down. I offer up a trip outside to listen to the planes fly overhead- he obliges, but then wants to go inside. I give him another snack of Nilla Wafers- he smashes them into his too cute outfit. I even threw my hands up and let him empty out some cabinets in the kitchen. Nothing works with this kid. And what do I have to show for it? A messy kitchen, a sweaty kid, and a wiener dog who thinks living at the Dallas SPCA is a helluva lot better than living in
this house!
Needless to say, Abe gets home and I check out. I don't even look at myself in the mirror (ponytail, scarf and a smudge of snot on my dress) before I head to my KKG meeting. It is here, where I can unwind with a glass, errr bottle, of wine and some corn dip. It is at this meeting where I can talk to women, adult women I might add, who actually have funny stories to tell me. We can talk about SO much here. Just ask those who I talked to last night. It may have involved a book from the 70's that my dear, sweet mom showed me to teach me of the, uh hum, birds and the bees. (i.e. why you fold laundry...) It may (or may not) have involved speaking of the trials and tribulations people go through with their in-laws. This conversation however, was PRIOR to me finding out that one of the gals I was chatting with JUST got engaged. Oops. (Good luck, sister!)
What I find so amusing about my jaunt out of the house for these precious hours, is that I get a text from my beloved...It reads:
Milk is bad. Pick some up on your way home. Shakes?
WHAT? Is your car in the shop? Are your legs broken? Did you loose your wallet? Why can't you go get the milk for our child and let me have one little night off from being a wife, mother, and business owner, eh? And what's the ending about- Shake? Huh? You want me to not only stop on my way home to get milk, but you also want me to bring you a milk shake? To which I reply:
Not coming home for a while. Will text later.
And by later, I mean 2.5 hours later. When I am aimlessly driving around trying to find milk and think of a place that's open that will sell me an Oreo Cookie milk shake for my hubby. CVS is open...I get the milk. Braum's is closed. I don't get the shake. I walk in the door, greet the Shake-needer.
First words out of his mouth: Where's my shake?
Really?! Really? Ahem. Bite me. (So TAK.)