Baby up at 6am. Sucks when you fell asleep at 4:30am. Husband took Ty to school and went back to bed until after 11am. I may hate him. Then he packed and left for a week in Las Vegas. I'm pretty sure I hate him. As he was leaving, he says, "I really don't want to go. I don't even know who the entertainment is at the last conference event...some band called Matchbox 20..."
It's official. I almost certainly hate him.
Then I made dinner alone. Kids dying from hunger, screaming, coloring on the windows, crayons spilled everywhere, Tyler insisting on making his own peanut butter sandwich (no, he won't eat what I cooked)...and the chicken came out half cooked and half raw. Why do they put HUGE chicken thighs in the same package with little tiny ones??? How hard is it to sort them by size?
It's way past their bed time. Peas and rice spilled into my sofa. Kids are wired and bouncing off the walls. Tyler lied about brushing his teeth. No hair left to pull out. John has 4 nights of a bed to himself in a city built for fun and loaded with great places to eat...yeah, it's a work function and he has to mingle and go to meetings. But I know those sales guys. Someone is going to suggest a strip club and it's all down hill from there.
Yeah. I hate him.
[If hubby reads this... Just kidding honey! I love you! Travel safe and bring me home a present, mkay?]