This being Friday, and the last day I work for a while, you’d think I’da leapt (Can I get a definitive on leapt/lept/leaped? I prefer leapt.) outta bed and jauntily prepared for my day, but it was not like that at all.
Are y’all so tired?
I finally made a menu. I stood in the kitchen with my kids, tryin to remember every single ingredient for every single thing, and what all we were out of…made a list, and I think, honest to goodness, it had never occurred to the three of them that this was a job, a task, to think of things to feed them.
Sassy asked me somethin about why I had to cook so much or why I needed food for Monday and I was like, “It’s my job.”
Bubba asked how much money he should allocate to groceries when he’s on his own at grad school and Sassy was like, “I don’t know what I’m gonna eat when I grow up…” and I was like, “No, nine sticks of butter is probably not enough and no, that’s not enough flour, and Daddy hates it when you send him out for flour on Christmas Eve.”
“Daddy hates it when you send him out for anything, ever.”
Like I enjoy it?!?
Even though we hated it, Sassy and I were at Meijer for two hours last night, buying hella milk for Bubba and Moo and potatoes like whoa. All the potatoes won’t even fit in the bigass drawer, y’all. And if they think Imma peel all those potatoes all by myself…
I BOUGHT MORE RUM.
Have sprinkles always cost so much? Seriously, I thought they were mis-marked.
We made it to the baking aisle before we had to pee.
Went back to the baking aisle to find they were out of anise extract, but forgot the flour and the baking chocolate.
We talked about sitting down in the pasta aisle. Just taking a little rest, but on we went to get peas.
We discussed that maybe hatred of shopping was a maternal family defect and we wished we could be the kind of women who enjoy shopping.
Sassy said she thinks I do way lots more than Daddy, and I was like, “Yeah, but he makes all the money.”
She said, “You make some money.”
I didn’t want to get into a discussion on partnership and asking her if she wanted to grow up on Hamburger Helper and pbj because I sure as hell don’t wanna live on my income alone or work 7-5:30 or assemble fucking bookshelves or carry all the heavy things…
Not gonna get into how Daddy as a single parent had expired eggs under expired eggs in his kitchen that had a yellow floor until I cleaned it. With equal shock, he’d tell you single me didn’t own a television.
Clearly we are each better equipped for certain things.
Got the really important stuff like ninety pounds of cheese and if they think I’m gonna slice and shred all that cheese by myself…
Looked at the list and had to go back to the baking aisle for the baking chocolate.
And they had no boxes. For the love of Pandora, not a single box to put gifts in. Half of Bubba’s presents are in bags. Ugh.
But I managed to get MINT and LIMES for the RUM.
As we loaded up the trunk of Bonnie Blue, I did stop to remember how incredibly fortunate I am, we are, to be tired from spending money on things that are celebratory. Some Christmastimes I was equally stressed and also, a broke-ass bitch, so you know, this is better. Although I was younger then and I think younger me had more energy.
Today on his lunch, The Mister is out buying the giant bag of dog food, which was assigned to him last night, but also, he has to make up for all that Meijer and I lack, like anise extract, pretzel twists, and flour.
But in a few hours, all the ingredients will be here and we will all be done with obligation and procurement and schedules.
Maybe tomorrow, after I’ve had more sleep and even more sex and a few cocktails, I’ll take a break from singing and dancing around my kitchen, and write you all a happy lil thing.
Right now, I gotta drag myself out there to work. It’s not the work I mind. I like the work. But my girls don’t want me to go, they want me home to snuggle and pet them. The pets, too.
I hate the going, and the anticipation of JOY upon my return. I want joy now.
Joy is waving to me. Taunting me.