Today I did not feed my kids enough, I guess. They asked for food every fifteen minutes.
Mommy, can I have a snack? as I was washing up the lunch dishes…
Hmm. Thought you would be makin supper by now… at 3:30 in the afternoon.
Mom, I’m gonna DIE… at 5:00, after plenty of snacks.
Can I eat dis? pilfering raw broccoli from the cuttings for a salad…
Today the baked beans I didn’t start quite in time for Tuesday’s supper, the ones I set aside to cook longer later, the ones I slow-roasted in the crock pot since 9:00 this morning, still clinked when they hit our plates at dinner. Cooked half to mush and still stony at heart—you tell me. I flopped yesterday’s supper too. No wonder the kids are hungry.
Today I couldn’t think of anything to cook but beans and eggs, so we had eggs for breakfast and beans and eggs for lunch and beans for supper. I could tell you the menus in ways that wouldn’t sound so terrible, but the fact remains that it’s all I could cook. Only I couldn’t. Which is why they were hard.
Today the sewing projects I worked on took two and three times as long as they should’ve, and I kept poking myself with pins.
Today someone spoke to me loud and slow like I was three years old and the kids were mean to the animals and the flies buzzed fatly, moistly in all my windows and my iron was never hot when I needed it and bugs bit me when I wasn’t looking and weeds grew thickly in my flowerbeds.
I see I have only one choice left open to me.
A good old-fashioned pity party and the largest, densest, richest slab of chocolate cake in town.
I will take some home to feed the kids.