I called Rob's cell phone while he was on the bus home and said, "I'm not feeling very dinner-making tonight." He took that to mean that he would not be greeted by me in my pearls with a home-cooked meal on the table. I told him we could split a burrito. This is what I love about him: he couldn't care less. In fact, I've been plotting an experiment whereby I leave progressively grosser foods on the counter to see what he'll actually eat. I have learned that if there is food on the counter as he walks by, he will stuff it in his mouth. It doesn't matter if I have made dinner, or if I was saving it, or if I was discarding it, he eats it. I once made a batch of blueberry muffins, and had left the blueberries out of two muffins for Leila, since she might collapse on herself if fruit of any kind enters her atmosphere. So there were two blueberry-less muffins on the counter, and as Rob walked by, he stuffed a whole muffin in his mouth like a pig. I can't tell you how many times I have had to explain to him that maybe he could ask first before he eats stuff. I know its his house, too, and it his food, too, but its my office, so ask first, buddy!
Anyway, I went out and got a burrito and some chips and salsa, and got Leila some Spanish rice (which, she declared, was too spicy; How is Spanish rice too spicy? She was jumping around like she had slurped a spoonful of wasabi. Drama.) Now I'm full. Eventually, my stomach will settle enough to have a little ice cream after L goes to bed. I do my best eating after she goes to bed. That's when the dessert comes out, or the extra glass(es) of wine.
I don't know what brought on my EAT day. I'm not PMSing (much to the relief of anyone who knows me.) I think it was the cereal. It never ends well when I eat cereal, but I cannot live on eggs and toast alone. When I eat eggs for breakfast, I forget to have lunch. Its that simple.
So now I'm sitting on a small space on the sofa surrounded by: a dismembered newspaper, my next book club book, L's empty backpack, her super girl cape, a Safeway receipt ripped to shreds by my dog, and what's left of the stuffed bunny he has been dragging around for two weeks. Leila is whining because Daddy Play Time is over and she has to get her PJS on and go to bed. I pushed the bed time up a half hour and its made all the difference in the morning. Like night and day, pun intentional.
Happy Birthday, Brynne!
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