First of all, I just want to put it out there, I’m really hungry right now. I’m really, really hungry and I should get up and make myself something to eat. But instead I’m sitting around blogging and thinking about how hungry I am. Why? I DONT KNOW. I guess there’s just nothing in the fridge calling my name, because we really need to do some groceries, and you like how I say “we” to make it sound like there is some other mysterious home executive in my house who is responsible for the fact that I’m sitting here thinking about how I am out of CoffeeMate Creamer and sandwich meat? I DONT WANT PEANUT BUTTER AND JAM. Now I know how my kid feels, I don’t want to eat anything when I don’t like the options, either. I should point out that I don’t want to put coffeemate and sandwich meat together into a meal. Add a few more key ingredients and I would have a numnum deli sandwich and a cup of coffee. Now I’m even hungrier and, quite frankly, I blame you. In entirety.
Now that I’ve decided it’s actually entirely your fault I’m hungry (don’t argue with me. Just apologize.) Here’s what happened when I was laying on the floor with my camera for no apparent reason yesterday. First, there was some awesome running. It has been noted by my sister in law that Nicole really jut likes to run in circles a lot. I can’t explain why, I don’t know. Those sweet leggings are tw*nkletw*nkle. For some reason she always wears them longer on one leg than the other. I don’t know. She’s only half mine, okay.She was also moving her recliner around and drymopping the floor. So I mean, like I said, half mine. You like that drymop? NORWEX. I also tricked my husband into using it yesterday by telling him if he extended it long he could do most of the livingroom without getting off the couch. I was right, AND my floor was clean. Win/win. But then… suddenly, after the peak, the floor cleaning, the beauty…. WHAT IS THIS?! Fridge-rummaging? WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?! She had decided she wanted a sippy of milk. This is the part where I turned off the camera and skidded into the kitchen, otherwise the story would have ended with a wet mop and something like 2 1/2 litres of milk on the floor. Instead it ended with a sippy of milk only following the magical phrase MILK PLEASE MOM and a little chat about how when we want something from the fridge we ASK and don’t just TAKE. I’m all for her eventually being self-sufficient but seriously, kid, two and a half years is not the point where you start menu planning.
Speaking of menu planning. I should go do that. So that “we” don’t spend the last day before grocery day grumpy about being out of everything that costs $3453453456billion more at the Safeway I can walk to than it does at every other grocery store.
Now that I think about it, peanut butter and jam sounds delicious.