We're going on our first family vacation with Eleanor (back to the cabin) soon and I was desperately hoping I could whip up a few loaves of cinnamon bread to take with us. I wanted everyone to oooh and ahhhh over my amazing bread making skills. I know, really humble. I also wanted to make food to eat on the trip to impress my husband with my money-saving skills. And I wanted to bring up some food to make when we get there so we wouldn't have to depend on my in-laws to provide all the meals for us. And I wanted to bring the food with us because I'm not going to be up there very long and I didn't want to waste precious vacation time grocery shopping. And before we leave I'd hoped to buy cat liter and replace the battery in my watch, which has been dead for an inconveniently long time. But it doesn't look like any of that is going to happen. At all. Except maybe the cat liter. Because I can't exactly leave kitty without a full liter pan.
I am having a seriously hard time letting go my desire to do everything and be perfect. Cause the only way getting it all done is going to happen is if I turn into a freaking basket case of stress, plant Abigail in front of a movie, and let Eleanor scream. And I don't want to do that because it's not healthy for anyone.
I just told Matt the probable fate of our meal plan and he called the local bar/restaurant in the area to discern if they sell pizza. They do. My husband is amazing.
That is all my friends. Thank you for letting me spill my failed super mom/wife guts to you.