I hope everyone had an excellent Easter Holiday! Stuffed yourself silly with chocolate and what-not.
I however, can not say my Easter weekend was a banner one.
It all started to go down hill on Thursday, I should have known then. Normally we are let out of work early, several hours. Not so this time around.
I’d been compiling a list in my head for several days for things to do on my day off, Good Friday, and finally decided to write it all down throughout the day on Thursday. Needless to say, I forgot what half the things were that I wanted to do. Thursday night I hardly slept. Which means that after F left to go to work (poor sucker) I rolled over and fell back to sleep, until 10 am. I proceeded to lie in bed until 11ish, knowing full well I had to donate blood at Church at 3pm. I didn’t feel well, but dragged myself up, and started to cross things off my list. NOT. First I went to the store that purportedly carried the shoes I want to wear for my wedding. They do not stock all the shoes (so much for trying them on), and specifically do not CARRY the shoes I want because they do not carry that supplier.
Then I headed to the grocery store. I had a list and a flyer full of fabulous coupons. The first place I went? Literally had isles TAPED OFF. The shelves that were accessible were half empty. I turned heel and ran back to my car. I was close to the Church and decided to donate early. After waiting AN HOUR, I was told my iron was too low and I couldn’t donate that day.
I decided to finish (start) my grocery shopping and headed several miles away to a store I knew would be stocked and clean. Nice store, about 20mins out of my way though. Apparently that extra mileage equates into extra high prices! Crazy! And once I started trying to get the items that I had coupons for, I discovered they were those misleading kind: SAVE $2 on any 3 frozen dinners! SAVE $1 on any 2 EXTRA LARGE SIZE items! Huh? That’s not a deal! So I put back the 10 items I had in my cart and head those extra 20 minutes back home to another grocery store.
After 4 warning signs you’d think I’d figure it out. Not so much.
It started snowing while in the grocery store, and the wind was whipping. As I stomped in the house, cold and wet and extremely hungry loaded down with groceries, F was no where to be found. Oh, wait, that’s right he was in the shower! “Warming up.” GRRRRR. He helped put away the groceries while I collapsed on the couch with a hunger induced headache.
“Fffffffff” I whimpered, “Will you please make dinner? I’m done, I’m just DONE! And I have a headache from hunger.”
“I’m not hungry right now.”
Pardon? I just told you I was in pain from not eating and you tell me you’re not hungry? How many times have I stopped what I was doing to make you dinner because you “are so hungry I’m really shaking!”
Make the damned spaghetti already!
“Please, seriously, I NEED to eat.”
So, let’s recap Good Friday: Wedding shoes? Nope.
Donate life saving blood? Nope.
Use somewhat fabulous coupons to get discounted yummy food? Nope.
Wasted several hours? Yep.
Wasted way too much gas? Oh yeah.
Saturday? Not much better.
F had to get some blood work done, so he dragged me out of bed with him at 8 am with the promise of a fabulous breakfast. I hadn’t even showered.
We drive FOREVER to this place that takes 2 seconds to draw his blood.
The fabulous breakfast? Eh. Cracker Barrel has some awesome bacon, let me tell you, the biscuits were pretty good too, and that was the highlight of my breakfast.
We drove home and I collapsed back into bed for the next few hours while F painted the ceiling in the family room.
I didn’t really sleep, a trend I’ve been experiencing lately and am not too thrilled about.
Got up, showered and started getting ready. We were going to meet my friends and F wanted to stop at the Outlet mall to get new tennis shoes. As always 2 mins after he gets out of the shower he announces that he’s ready to go! That I need to hurry up! So I rush. I am seconds from walking out the door to leave to find F, in the basement, on the computer, still only half dressed. The directions to the restaurant? Not written down. The cars not moved around, he was too busy to do his stuff because he was chatting with a cousin! Grrrrrrrr We fought about it in the car, he couldn’t see that my point was not whether or not we would be late, but that EVERY TIME we have somewhere to go he says he’s ready then as I’m at the door he can’t find his shoes, or his wallet, or his cell or his glasses or needs to write this or that, or stop at the hardware store, or the post office, or the bank, or SOMETHING that puts us 10 minutes behind schedule that he could have been doing while I was getting ready.
“You’re blowing it out of proportion.” he stated.
WRONG THING TO SAY buddy boy.
Dinner went well. F was kind of ignored by the other husbands, but boys don’t socialize as well as girls anyway.
We got home really late and when the morning came, I dreaded heading to Easter Sunday Services. I waited until the last possible service at noon.
Once we got home F painted the ceiling with a second coat while I cleaned the disaster of a kitchen. I even moved the stove to mop!
“DH, I’m so hunger, I’m shaking!”
really? cause I’m not. “I’ll make dinner, but I have to finish cleaning the stove first, do you want me to make you a sandwich to hold you until then?”
And this is where all those warning sign were pointing, Easter Sunday Dinner. I’d had an idea in my head to use some salsa to spice up the baked chicken and I was going to season the whole grain brown rice so it won’t taste so nasty, and all would be lovely in the land.
The chicken smelled good, but still tasted extremely bland.
The rice wasn’t done.
Like a damn hysterical woman.
“I can’t cook! I know how to cook, but every time I do, it comes out wrong! I feel like such a failure!”
“Oh, DH, I’ve never seen you this way! Wow, you are really having an emotional breakdown.” He consolingly wraps his arms around me.
“Your mother thinks I can’t do anything! And what happens when I have to cook for them? Especially T? She’s such a fabulous cook!”
“OMG, why are you worrying about that?”
“I’m a woman! I’ve been raised to believe that I should be able to cook for my husband! I never thought I’d feel this way. I want you to eat my food because you like, not because that’s all there is!!!” At this point I’m practically wailing.
“Oh, DH. I’m not marrying you because of that!”
It went on that way for a few more minutes, with F promising we would learn to cook together. Which really didn’t make me feel any better, but I know he was trying.
I felt completely defeated the rest of the day. I was still upset the next morning. I could feel the dark bony fingers of depression weaving their way into my psyche. So I stayed home, taking a vacation day from work.
I painted the family room. It looks good.
But I’m still skittish about making dinner.
Who is this emotional basket case I’ve become?????