Well - today it finally started to show up.
First - let's go over my Halloween night.
- Hubby buys way too many chocolates. I am in charge of sitting by the door passing them out. I don't mind this at all, and I snuck a few M&M peanuts in while I waited.
- We had a whopping 20 kids. If that. What a let down. I now have way too many chocolates sitting in my house screaming my name and begging me to eat them. I want to lose some weight. Boo on you, chocolate.
- Sir Pukes-A-Lot is still sick and hacking up a storm.
- I gave him some cough syrup before bed which he proceeded to puke back up. I was not surprised.
At 2:32 in the morning the following happens:
*cough, cough, cough* ... *hack* .... *cough, cough, cough*
Me: (tapping hubby on the shoulder) will you go give him some medicine?
Hubby: No! You do it!
Me: (now royally ticked) -- Isaac! Get up and take some medicine.
*me, acting like a baby and stomping about - then coming back to bed and flopping around in anger. Hubby has zero reaction, he's out cold*
At 9 in the morning - hubby remembers nothing...but I do.
Fast forward to this afternoon. I'm making my famous lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches (cut into dino shapes) and tomato soup. Yum. Hubby asks for one.
Me: Great - I cut this one wrong. (I'd forgotten to use my sandwich shape cutter)
Hubby: It's burnt.
Me: *gasp* it is not!!
Hubby: Yes, it's burnt. Can you make me another one?
Me: Why yes...I'll get right on that, Love of my life.
what? You don't believe that?? Okay, okay...here's the truth:
Hubby: Yes, it is so burnt. Can you make me anther one?
Me: *sporadic waving of spatula throughout* No! Are you nuts? Do you think I can just make sandwiches to everyone's pleasure around here? Do you know how long I'd be in the kitchen for? Listen, in this house you get what you get and if you don't like it you eat it any way!
Me: You heard me! You're gonna eat your sandwich and like it!
Hubby: *puts his plate on the counter and walks out*
Me: Hey -- where are you going?? Big Baby!
Yeah. Real mature, huh?
Now I have to eat crow pie, call him up, tell him I'm sorry for over reacting. I hate that.
For the record - the sandwich was well toasted, not burned.