Burned

The post I would have written on Monday night if I hadn't decided to take a bath and go to bed at 7:58 p.m.

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I'm trying to decide the worst thing about tonight and why I feel an unholy combination of annoyed at myself, annoyed at JP, annoyed at my kids, annoyed at myself for how I acted with my kids, and annoyed at both the higher powers of the universe and my basic kitchen plumbing. It's not even that things were so terrible, they weren't completely awful, but the level of sheer ANGER and annoyance I felt by the time JP walked in the door at 7:00 to the dinner we were halfway through was something that can't yet be measured by science. And then I was annoyed at myself for being so damn annoyed and mad and that is when I turned to the wine and an early bedtime. It was best for everyone.

It started on Sunday night when JP made me mad. He very rarely makes me mad, like I can probably count all the times on my two hands, but he did and it was legitimate and he didn't fix it fast enough and the mad woke up with me on Monday. Also on Sunday, our kitchen sink broke. It stopped up and gross sewagey water spewed up from both basins. It was disgusting and smelly and brought the kitchen to a halt. I had no idea how central the kitchen sink was to our life until I walked over to it 1,000 times in the first 12 hours it was broken only to find a large amount of brownish water staring back at me. We called 3 plumbers and the earliest one could get it us was Wednesday morning.

So on Monday we used paper plates (no washing dishes) and I picked up two trays of Stouffers meals I wouldn't have to dirty anything to make. We cleaned bottles in the bathroom sink, wiped off serving utensils with damp paper towels, slowly loaded up a dishwasher we couldn't run, and waited for Wednesday. I'm proud to say we didn't eat out once. I'm less proud to say I burned the shit out of my hand pulling the 400 degree baking pan with the foil tray of baked ziti out of the oven Monday night. Both big kids were fighting non-stop -- NON-STOP -- and because they never do that I had no ready way of dealing with it on from a discipline or general sanity perspective. Cora also cried non-stop. NON-STOP. I think she might have reflux. She cried the whole time we were in the car picking up the kids, cried her way through her pre-dinner bottle that is supposed to put her to sleep so I can make dinner, and cried for the next 60 minutes after her bottle while I tried to hold/bounce her, keep the ice pack on my burnt palm, yell at lovingly parent the other children, pour/drink wine, and complete our baked ziti dinner with garlic bread and microwaved steamed vegetables. JP walked in the door right after I finally got everyone seated at the table with dinner and beverages served on disposable plates, my wine was poured in a clear plastic cup, Cora was whimpering but not screaming, and I was on my third ice pack because my burn kept making the other ones get warm too quickly.

The worse part was maybe that I couldn't hold my poor sad baby and keep the ice pack on my hand AND take a sip of my wine. The baby and ice took precedence (which shows how bad the burn was) so I just stared glumly at the wine 12 inches from my face while the kids ate silently under the gaze of my death stare. I passed Cora to JP, shot my wine, put the big kids in bed, and then took a nice bath with my much calmer baby and put myself in bed by 8.

Tuesday was better.

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Today was excellent. I'm no longer mad at JP, my sink was fixed this morning, and one of my very best friends drove over from Austin with her girls to visit me! Sometimes all I need is a giant dose of outside-this-house human contact (and a functioning sink). Cora is much happier- she slept great the last two nights (6 hour stretches!) and has been back to her sweet snuggly CALM self. The big kids are coloring together in the playroom and I've only heard fighting words twice. I have a real meal cooking on the stovetop- a meal I made and will serve on real dishes that I (actually, probably JP) will wash. My burn is healed enough to open and close my hand like a normal non-lobstery person and I am sipping my wine slowly instead of guzzling it like a dying man in the dessert.

It is a much better day.