It was beautiful last week. Pretty good over the weekend. Tolerable yesterday. Better today. Will be nice tomorrow. Let's stop there, because Thursday's forecast makes me want to kick a puppy. LOL
The girls are doing better tonight. They didn't kill each other, and didn't even look like they wanted to. Win!
When Kevin was not working, he had dinner done when I got home. It was fabulous. When he worked days, he got home before me and had dinner done when I got home. It was fabulous. He took care of dinner during the week, and I would cook up a storm on the weekends. Big breakfasts, big dinners, and several things to help with lunches during the week.
Now, Kevin doesn't get home until 9. That means that I get to come home and start dinner, and we hope to eat by 7. Then there are dishes, etc. You know, the stuff that mothers do every night of every week. That's what I'm doing, and that's fine.
However, when the weekends come, I don't WANT to do all the extra cooking. I don't make the giant batch of tuna salad. I don't cook ahead. I just can't find the joy in doing that, after doing it all week after work. So, I was pouting in the kitchen tonight (I have to stay in the kitchen while the oven is on, don't ask) and feeling sorry for myself for not getting a cooking break.
And then it hit me: I have food to cook. I have a family to cook for. I have appliances to cook with. I have a warm house in which to cook. I feel like a total TOOL for feeling sorry for myself. Life is good. No, life is GREAT! This weekend, I will cook up a storm for these people that I love. Yup. That's the plan. I hate it when I get whiney, but I love it when I get smacked in the head with reality enough to appreciate what I have.