Hair of the Ruffles
Maybe that's why I was crabby all day, yelling at the kids for being... well, kids. I just wanted to be alone in my chip and dip-induced misery, but today was not a school day. Therefore the kids were at home, and I spent most of the day alternating between picking up toys and screaming at them to help me pick up toys. Finally, around 4:00, when their high-pitched screams of joy woke me up again from the nap I was trying to take on the couch, I made them put on their pajamas with the idea that I was going to send them to bed without their supper. Good riddance!
By 4:30 I realized the error of my ways. Mike had a welding class tonight and wouldn't be home for dinner. I could make something at home out of a frozen chicken breast and half a can of corn (what was in the refrigerator since I didn't make it to the grocery store today). Or I could go out to eat, thereby not having to cook or clean up afterward. But going out to eat meant that I would have to retract my "to bed without supper!" declaration. Decisions, decisions.
Of course, it wasn't like the kids were in bed. Ya, they had their pajamas on but they were doing a whole lot of bouncing off the walls and not a whole lot of sitting quietly while contemplating their sins. Deciding they were too young for that particular punishment--and that I was too lazy to try and drum up dinner at home--I asked them to put their clothes back on; we were going out to dinner.
Not surprisingly, the kids started behaving a lot less like animals and a lot more like well-behaved little people once we were out in public. I felt better, too. Even though in theory I like spending some days at home, the reality is that being inside with the kids for hours on end drives all of us crazy.
After dinner we even went on a Target run. The kids were a little freaked out to be in Target at night, but they quickly got used to the idea and sat nicely in the two-kid train cart while I got the cookie sheets, laundry detergent, and personal hygiene items that I so desperately needed.
The day was saved, but the next time you see me with a bowl of chips cradled in my lap, can you please remind me that eating crap makes me feel like crap? Thanks.