It is the Apocalypse. Or Armageddon. Or perhaps hell is freezing over? (It is pretty damn cold out there today.) Things have just been, well, WRONG lately. On so may different fronts.
Let's start in the kitchen.
Last week I cooked dinner.
I shit you not.
I know, I know, I checked, I did not have a fever nor was my body invaded by aliens or something. I don't know what came over me? I went to the grocery store on Sunday (best time to go is during the middle of the Eagles game when you live in South Jersey. VACANT!) and got fixings for several real meals. I roasted a chicken. I made a roast beef. Mashed potatoes. No frozen ready mades AT ALL! I didn't serve leftovers ONCE! Strange....hmmmm, well at least it was then Friday.
It didn't stop there. Next, I baked cookies. Ok, ok, they were the Pillsbury break apart ones you just put on a sheet and pop in the oven, but still.. I had to preheat, and watch the timer and cool and everything. And I made 4 different kinds and didn't burn any. The fact that I even had them in the house is a frigging miracle. Oh, and I added cinnamon sprinkles to the plain sugar cookies. Who doesn't love a snickerdoodle, after all? Then I baked brownies. Two batches. Ira was going away with the guys for the weekend, so I thought it would be nice to give them a big container of baked goods. Hello, who am I?
See, I told you it was weird?
Now, the oddities continue. While said husband was away, I was alone with the children for 3 days. And I didn't really mind it. I even enjoyed it. I arranged play dates. I picked up from birthday parties. We went to the movies. I know, I had a little help.. but she did put a hole in the wall... so that has to balance out a little. And I never once lost my cool. I even ACCOMPLISHED THINGS while my husband was away. That has never happened before. The house stayed neat and orderly (except for that hole I mentioned earlier and that one spot that I think was dog vomit that no one is owning up to.) Laundry, dishes, all done, dogs, fish and guinea pig all fed on a regular basis. My children both lived through the weekend. I didn't yell at them. Much. and I cooked again on Monday. It was even a holiday (Love that MLK) and I could have gotten away with take out.
The pattern of domestic tranquility continues. And no, I am not competing for Mother of the Year. I lost out on that last week when Haley fell out of my bed and hit her eye on my nightstand and got a HUGE BRUISE and proceeded to tell her teacher I hit her.
But I digress.
So, we are on to week two. I cooked again. Twice. In 3 days. One night we had cereal and leftovers from the 1st night. Girls' choice. Last night I didn't yell at the kids even once, and I gave them ice cream for dessert. They didn't ask or beg or need to be bribed to eat a good dinner or leave me alone. (Although they did all that and it was rather pleasant) We were just 3 happy girls home alone together. Daddy didn't get home until well after they were both in bed, and when he arrived, there I was, dishes done, house cleaned up, watching TV and working at my desk. The picture of Domestic Bliss.
Dishes were done? Laundry was done? Kids were in bed? I was pleasant after all that? There was a Plate of Dinner for him in the fridge. Chicken. Rice (2 kinds, because the girls each wanted something else. I am so kind) and Broccoli. Yeah, I am that good. I was not medicated. or drinking.
Something is happening to me.
Something is very wrong.
I think I am growing up. or nesting. or something.
WTF? How did that happen?
Now, as if all this isn't enough to prove that Doomsday is near...
Look at this.
I am going away this weekend with my girlfriends. We are going to Ocean City for this Scrapbook Dork Retreat (I prefer to view it as a spiritual retreat. If L. Ron Hubbard could start Scientology, then I am starting Scrapentology) Of all my girlfriends, I am always the last one to pack. We leave Friday morning at 9:00 a.m. so I am expected to start packing around 10:00 Thursday night. or later.
Well, folks, I am JUST ABOUT PACKED! My pictures were printed and organized on Monday night. Tuesday I gathered sketches, layout ideas and papers. Wednesday night I put papers and pictures together, added some other things to each pack, gathered tools and such. Tonight, I just have to put it all in a bag. My clothes and stuff are already in the suitcase, sitting on my bathtub just waiting for my toothbrush after I get dressed tomorrow. I am so READY!
Domestic AND organized. I don't get it. People LIVE like this?
Something is seriously WRONG here?
I even have written a note for my husband of things that he needs to do over the weekend. Hebrew school, birthday parties, things for the dogs...
Why am I so prepared? Organized? Domestic? It is as if Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart have taken over my body. Together. I even tried to go home and immediately put on my pajamas to see if it would help cease this nonsense yesterday. Nope, turns out I was equally as productive in flannel pants as I am fully dressed. Even more so because I was able to put the clothes I wore in the wash. Seems I thwarted my plan simply by trying to thwart my productivity. How's that for cutting off your nose to spite your face?
Next week I am turning over a new leaf. I will not cook. Not one night all week. I will not plan ahead. I will return to my unorganized ways.
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...