Saturday, December 4, 2010
Breakfast in Bed
Mr. T told me last night that he was kind of sick and because of that he should get breakfast in bed this morning. Well, I have no idea where or how he put those two things together but he did. Believe me, breakfast in bed is not an event that has ever happened around here, and certainly not something that happens when we are sick. However, I just said OK, thinking it would be fun. So Peter got home about 7:30 this morning to see Miss E eating at the bar and Mr. T eating in bed. (Yes, those are eggs, with cheese and giant chunks of butter on the muffin - the kid is hungry in the morning, what can I say?)
After that it was basketball game - which Miss E warmed up for, made about 10 baskets in a row before the game and then has decided not to play in the ACTUAL game. Sigh. I get it, it's complicated and I don't really care. The coach and I just kind of looked at each other, smiled and shrugged our shoulders. Then on to the play done by her school and out to dinner - a real treat for us.
At bedtime, I noticed that behind a very loose tooth of Miss E's, the permanent tooth was already coming in. As we were talking about taking her to the dentist, she pulled and pushed and the tooth came out leaving a bloody hole in her mouth. Thank goodness I have been stockpiling stocking stuffers, otherwise the tooth fairy would have had to be quite inventive tonight. Once she got over how bloody her mouth was, she was pretty excited.
And then after the kids went to bed, Peter and I got into a huge fight. Sigh again. I won't take up space or invade privacy by posting a long rant here, but I'm angry, I'm sure he's angry and sometimes I think marriage sucks. Sometimes I think it would be better to live in houses next door to each other. Our own sweet little houses. That we could keep however we like and deal with the kids how ever we would like as well. Right next door, close enough to wave hi in the morning, pop over for lunch, send the kids in between looking for backpacks and a snack or the puppy dog (who would be at my house). Now don't you all worry that we are spending all weekend yelling at each other because we are totally past that phase and are into the "I'm completely pissed and you are annoying but we'll suck it up to keep household stuff moving forward" phase. Is that mature? I'm sure some counselor out there would say not, but I'm equally sure that Peter and I are far far far from the poster children for marriage.