As my husband ushered me out the door this morning for my Birthday-slash-Mother's Day "Hey, I did actually get you a present" present, I asked him to please PLEASE marinate the chicken while I was gone.
Now I realize that being alone with 3 kids during the prime of their activity period is not an easy task, but he's a pilot. They do lots of things all at the same time, like fly around people and stuff, which might be considered as hard as or possibly even harder than wrangling 3 little kids AND marinating chicken (which, by the way, involves opening a spice packet, adding vinegar, oil, and water, and then plopping a bunch of chicken in a bowl).
It didn't help that this might have been the worst spa experience I've ever had, which, as you could probably guess is pretty challenging because any time away from your kids for a little break should be a spa.
A Gyno visit on my own is actually relaxing.
But the weird full-body sugar scrub under a stained blanket followed by a shower in a really scary looking bathroom topped off by a manicure that my 6-year-old could have done did not make me a happy camper.
Seriously. The thought that perhaps this was the woman's first time painting nails actually ran through my mind at least twice during the almost 2-hour manicure.
And after just asking her to give up and take off the 4th coat of nail polish, my nails actually look worse than when I started.
Needless to say, I was trying to remind myself that it is the thought, or extreme afterthought that counts. And besides, I'd be coming home to a super clean house, my children happily snoozing, and a bowl of happily marinating chicken.
But alas - the family room was a wreck. The kids had just gone down for a nap about an hour past their nap time, and he had not marinated the chicken.
He did, however, have time to vacuum the family room floor somehow, which is awesome considering I just vacuumed it yesterday.
But why? Why can't they ever just do that ONE little tiny thing we ask?