6 minutes

This week has really been a target widow week. Brett goes in before 7 and hasn't been home before 8. What really stinks is that tonight, he has no idea when he will be home and the next 3 days will be the same. Add into this equation that we are in the middle of potty training Ian, are supposed to start solids for Corban as per his GI, and we are having Target people (including Brett's boss) over to our house either Friday or Saturday and so I have been painting trim all day with both boys either crying, throwing up, or peeing all over the house. Its been a little rough. Ian is finally having dinner (a microwaved corn dog) right now (8pm). I am considering making broccoli too, so don't think I don't feed my kids veggies.

I guess I'm really writing right now, not because of brett being gone, but because of what happened today. The crowning moment of today, which just makes me mad, well I guess bitter is a better word, or hostile towards, was a relief society skit practice. First off, I said yes when asked to participate before I knew this ward didn't offer a nursery at big things like a visiting teaching conference. So I have to go and I have no one to watch the boys, because everyone I would ask will be there and Brett will be at Target. So I'm a little upset because I'm stuck, and then they wanted to practice this week. I let them know that would be fine, but I would have the boys. No big deal according to them. So after painting all day, Ian and I hop into the shower to clean off, and I leave a few minutes later than I wanted to. Well my phone rings when I'm about a minute away from church and its 6:06. Its the person in charge of the skit wanting to know if I am on the way, have I left yet, when will I be there. I was very nice and told here I was turning into the church. 6 minutes late, really that's not that bad. Its not late enough to call and track down someone is it? I mean really there is a big huge spot of paint in the middle of my hallway carpet from a toddler, there are crunched up stomped on goldfish on my living room floor, in my life 6 minutes late is on time. I walk into the gym ready to practice, put Corban in my wrap and I'm ready to go (6 min late!). Apparently bringing my kids threw everyone off but me though. Who cares if I have to read my part while me finger is in Corban's mouth and ian is trying to climb up my body to get on the stage, its not a distraction its how I live. So lets move on get this practice over with so maybe I can feed my children. Anyway, the whole 6 minutes late things really just set me off. I'm doing all I can and trying not to back out of the skit, since who knows where my children will be, can't you cut me 6 minutes of slack?

Anyway, tonight I am hoping to be able to hop into my huge tub (one of the reasons we bought this house) after bedtime and drowning my sorrows (or in actuality soreness, spit up, and pee) away. Calgon please please take me away!