Arsenic Hour and Fancy Pants...

This is a story that occurred at my house this past week. It is a specific night, but truly happens more than you could imagine. This is a period of time, just before dinner, when I am trying to cook and get things settled. It is that time of day when I am exhausted and soooooo over it and then everyone.melts.down. I'm talking all three girls are either crying, hungry, mad, fighting, or screaming. Or all of those things combined. My mother-in-law told me that it used to be called "arsenic hour." When arsenic hour occurs in my home, happy hour begins. 

Let me explain. 

So we get home from picking up Summer from Spanish class. I comb my pantry and fridge for possible dinner items. Fortunately I actually had a few options (shocking), so I start chopping some sweet potatoes quickly for fries and throw them in the oven. During this I have a sobbing Olivia on my leg (for no reason) and Layla whining and mad that she wasn't on my leg. Summer is sitting at the counter reading me her book for homework. I finish chopping and clean up (some of) the mess I made. I have burgers that I wanted to broil but I don't remember what temp, for how long, etc (my oven is fancy and gives you like 37 options for broiling alone). I text Matt but don't get a response, so I just pick a setting and throw them in the oven. There is a knock at the door. YAY! My dresses for the black tie event we are attending have arrived! I run upstairs to try it on ASAP (the event was that weekend so if neither fit I was going to be doing some frantic dress shopping). I try on the first size and it is huge. My heart sinks. I take a few deep breaths, and grab the second size. Okay, why is the larger size so tight? I yell for Summer to come help zip me. During all of this I text Matt to find out what time he will be home for dinner. Next comes the wrestling match known as getting the zipper up on the dress (I can't do it and my six year old can't. I was about to call a neighbor). CRAP, the burgers are in the broiler and trying to zip up this dress has taken FAR too long. I sprint downstairs (gown half-on) to open the oven door only to get burger smoke in my face. Fantabulous. Layla starts yelling from the bathroom that she pooped and needs to be wiped. I flip the burgers oh-so-carefully to not get anything on the dress after I inadvertently flung Olivia across the kitchen to keep her away from the hot oven. The current scene: Livi sobbing (she's fine, just miffed), Layla yelling from the bathroom about poop, me in a half-zipped gown, Summer trying to be helpful by comforting Livi, also crying because she is upset that Olivia is crying. The doorbell rings. Of course it does. I go to open it to some door-to-door guy (windows maybe?). His questioning look not only over my attire but of the sobbing, yelling, and smoke smell got me a quick out and I nearly slammed the door in his face. Gown gets almost thrown off, when I get a text from Matt that he won't actually need dinner and he will be home later. Ahhhhh of course. A large glass of wine gets poured immediately. Livi was still in her miffed state so she essentially refused to eat (her problem, not mine. She definitely won't starve herself). Who sobs over cheeseburgers and sweet potato fries? I didn't even get a chance to get a real veggie on the plate. I mean, seriously?

Everyone was put to bed promptly after dinner. 

The Holly Ball was a great time. It was fun to not be covered in yogurt and be fancy pants for a night. I spoiled myself by getting my nails done and my hair blown out and curled (my normal curly hair is such a one-hit wonder that I really didn't want to deal). Our neighbors were attending the event as well so we went to their house before we left. 

No, that is not my gorgeous tree. Ours is currently dying. Any suggestions???

Happy Thursday! 

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