1. Clayton has been gone all week. Bye, I’m going to take a nap.
No, it hasn’t been that terrible…or so I said all cocky to myself on Monday afternoon. I wanted to seem brave and independent about the whole thing. That lasted a solid 24 hours. By Tuesday night I was sobbing during my nightly call with Clayton. Pregnant with a toddler is werk, guys! Middle class suburban werk, sure, but still tough.
However, I didn’t buy ONE SINGLE MEAL this entire week. You’d have to be me, my husband or our bank account to understand how monumental this is, but woa. On an average week with Clayton in town, I’m sending him last ditch texts to pick up dinner at least twice. I’m working on it.
Only the finest for my family. At least the mac ‘n cheese was organic and the sausage was chicken.
2. I even made some food for friends that recently had a baby. They didn’t get mac ‘n cheese. I tried a new recipe and have no idea how it turned out because I didn’t taste test. Always a safe bet as a terrible cook making a brand new dish for other people. Close up, it looked pretty good.
But cropping can be deceptive.
As is the case with most of my kitchen adventures, there was a casualty. I left our skillet on the oven too long with oil in it, and there was no salvaging that charred disaster. I’m still smelling smoke at random times.
3. I attempted to sprinkle in some fun outings for our Girls Week. All of them went terribly awry at some point, but whaddyagonnado. More on that later.
For a few minutes, we had fun getting some free froyo after school.
4. Finally. Be gone, devil.
5. This superstar on Instagram. (Ignore my text alert.)
From now on, I’m sticking to Maya’s breed as “scruffy.”
Now it’s off to a weekend full of shirking my household responsibilities and lots and lots of take out!