Daddy, "what do you want Hannah?"

Hannah, "cream cheese and honey on toast"

Mommy's thought, "uh oh, daddy is going to put the cream cheese and honey on the wrong kind of bread."  Mommy to the rescue (if I had a cape and mask I'd put it on here).

This is the kind of episode that causes a complete and utter meltdown in our house.

I quickly got myself out of bed, ran down the stairs and thankfully saved the raisin bread from a sad demise.  The raisin toast gets butter.  The white toast gets cream cheese and honey.  And he didn't toast the bread enough.  And he was putting too much cream cheese on it.  And cutting it in half.  Then he dares ask me how much honey she likes on it and I blurt out, "do I have to do EVERYTHING around here?".  

Long. Pause.  Oops.  I feel it coming...

"Apparently, after telling me that everything with the toast I've done incorrectly, you do".  And he's right.  I either need to let him do it and deal with the drama of undercooked, drippy cream cheese, raisin toast or I need to do it myself and be happy about it.  Undecided which is the better option.

My other personal paradox (does that make sense?  Vocabulary is not one of my strengths so I hope it does)... is that I complain about being lonely a lot and then tell Tim at night when he gets home that I don't feel much like talking.  As a stay at home mom of two short people I rarely get a chance to talk to any friends, let alone see any friends and with Luke's nap schedule play dates are difficult too.  So most days I am with the kids, playing dress up, make-believe this or that or throwing balls around in the house.  I talk 4 year old and 1 year old like a pro.  So when finally they are both sleeping all I want is ahhhhh.... peace and quiet (and my Facebook and Twitter of course).  It's also when I get the chance to do this blog thing.  And when I crave my reality TV. I'm happy to have Tim home when he gets home from work and briefly hear about his day, but not so much in the mood to chatty chatty chat.  Unless of course he wants to rub my feet and neck while he chats... then I could deal with a good conversation. When I feel like chatting is in the middle of the day - when he for some odd reason can't.   If it weren't for our Saturday night date nights we wouldn't know much about what is going on in each other's lives.  Am I alone in this?  It's ok if I am but I'd feel oh so much better if other moms could relate.  I wouldn't know though, because I don't get the chance to talk to them.