He Said That?
My husband left for Dallas on Thursday, to return on Sunday.
My daughter and I are pretty self-sufficient when he’s gone, but any parent who has spent four rainy days at home with a toddler can guess that by Sunday I was pretty well fried. I didn’t even attempt to get us to church, but I had to buy a birthday gift (for my husband); a wedding gift; pick up my stuff from the Growing Kids Sale, and get groceries. You have to know my child was wild by the time we got home. It was so bad, I let her watch the 1972 version of “Charlotte’s Web”, which causes me to make that EEEEE EEEEEE EEEEE sound you hear in horror movies.
I ran a few loads of laundry, made my husband’s favorite cookies for his birthday because he’s an alien who doesn’t like cake, and cooked dinner. Somewhere in there, he came home.
There followed bedlam, dinner, screaming, bath and, finally, bedtime. I staggered into the kitchen to contemplate the enormous pile of dishes in our washer-less kitchen at 8:30 p.m.
My husband stood in the middle of the kitchen, facing the sink with all the dishes, and asked me why I was cranky. I explained, patiently, that it was 8:30 and I still had at least two loads of laundry to do, the wreckage of the weekend to pick up, and that huge pile of dishes to wash.
He said (I’m not making this up): “Can’t you do some of that stuff during the day?
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