Day 5: 7 Quick Takes (The Return to the Commissary)

1. This morning started off great; both kids slept later than usual, Alessandra (poor little sicky) took a fantastic morning nap, and Tony was snuggly and happy. I made him his favorite breakfast, we read at least six books, he watched his favorite TV show while I quickly got cleaned up, and once Little Miss woke up from her nap, I took them both to the park.

2. Tony had a complete and utter meltdown on the way back, and while I tried to handle it calmly and gracefully, by the time we got back to our street I had had it. I lost it with Tony, and sent him to bed without lunch. The mama guilt kicked in shortly thereafter, and I went in his room after 20 minutes to give him another chance. "Are you sorry for throwing a tantrum after we left the park?" Tony stared rather defiantly at me and declared, "NO! Want lunch now!" Mama guilt? Vanished. Scream all you want in there, kid. I assure you, I've got a few decibel levels on you. Let's just say I was glad when Will returned for the day.

3. Will ordered me to take some time to myself while he handled our little krampus bait angel, and I basked in the comfort of our quiet bedroom and trashy reality TV. An hour and a half later (with my sanity restored), a much-subdued Tony gave me a hug and kiss and said, "I'm sorry Mama. Love my mama." Heart. Melted. All was forgiven.

4. We moved into our house on base a little over a week ago, and I had only made one trip to the commissary. Big mistake. I let our groceries dwindle down to nothingness ("Mother Hubbard looked in the cupboard and found that the cupboard was bare!"), and I was forced to do my grocery shopping on a payday Friday. Won't be making that mistake again anytime soon.

5. Tonight's project-living room. All of these boxes and the disorganization is really getting to me, and Will and I have made a pact that the house will be completely unpacked/organized/beautiful by Sunday evening. Please hold me to this vow. I'm sick of living in chaos.

6. Okay, lamest quick takes ever. I get it. But after dealing with a cantankerous toddler, a sick baby, commissary on payday and boxes everywhere I look, I shall leave you with #7. Don't hate.

7.