Enjoy the Silence

Last night there were no Bulldogs snoring louder than a herd of Harley Davidsons roaring through town.

Last night there were no cats crying shrilly to be fed. Again.

Last night there were no Havanese restlessly trolling the bed in search of an even comfier spot.

Last night there was no husband sprawled diagonally across the bed with the blankets tightly tucked far away from me.

Last night there were no chubby preschooler fingers intertwined in my hair as tiny little preschooler feet kicked me in the shins.

I had to go all the way to Chicago (for work) to do it, but last night? Last night I got to sleep without interruption. Wooooooo!

I did, however, kinda miss waking up to this face.

And by "kinda," I mean I missed it a lot.

Sometimes It Takes Me a While to Follow-Up. Kinda.

A really long time ago I mentioned that my dear sweet husband, despite being really good at many things, really sucks at making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It's true, and I still stand by those words. He and I ended up in quite the debate over the topic, so I decided to do the only logical thing and ask the internet: Where does the jelly go? Should it be spread directly on top of the peanut butter or does it get a slice of bread all to itself?

I learned a very valuable lesson from that little poll. There are WAY too many people making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches wrong. While the jelly should be placed directly on the peanut butter so as to avoid any absorption by bread, it seems that 61% of poll participants do not understand the important things in life. They're all doing it wrong.

OK, so, I'm doing it wrong, too.

See, it turns out that there was a previously unknown-to-me method to the madness. It's GENIUS. The peanut butter goes on both slices of bread, and a lovely goop of jelly goes in the middle. I have since made a sandwich in exactly that manner and I declared it a work of art. Perfect. Spectacular. Truly the right way to do things.

Anyway, the reason I never posted the correct answer to the question was because I was curious to know: What would Alexis do? She has witnessed incorrect sandwich making methods her entire short life and only recently set out on her own. I wanted to know what path she would select. It took a while, but I finally managed to capture Alexis' response to the debate.

Without any prompting from me, here are the steps to creating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, according to Alexis:

1. Slap two pieces of bread down. (The plate is apparently optional as I had to make that minor suggestion.)

2. Peanut butter. Lots and lots and lots of peanut butter.

3. Clean the knife. Make sure to do it in a manner that will cause your mother to cringe.

4. Show your mother why she keeps finding crystallized peanut butter in the jelly jar. (Sorry I blamed you, Mr. Husband.)

And now for the moment of truth . . .

THAT'S MY GIRL!

5. Slap some jelly right on top of the peanut butter. YEAH, BABY!

6. Crush your mother's spirit.

HOW COULD SHE? I have to think that little shout-out to Dad was because she needs to keep him on her good side if she wants him to continue being her fruit snack dealer.

7. Slap the bread slices together as your mother goes off to cry The Ugly Cry because she has failed to teach you how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich the RIGHT way.

Alexis, the peanut butter goes on both slices of bread. Next time, get it right. Otherwise, I'll have to continue making my own sandwiches.

It's Good to Be Looooooooooved

It's a slippery slope, and we have found our way all the way to the bottom of the mountain. Where once there was a peaceful dinner time filled with a young child eating actual food, now there is chaos.

It started with snacks in the car on the way home from school. The young child swears that daycare doesn't feed her. While the empty food bowls in her lunch bag tell a very different story, she's always all, "I'm sooooo hungry. My belly hurts. Waaaaah!" I highly doubt anyone is stealing her nearly daily dose of lima beans and cherry tomatoes, but whatever. I tend to let her have some baby carrots or crackers or something as we drive home. (Yes, I'm a sucker. And?)

Then Alexis the Hungry Hungry Hippo convinced her father that she neeeeeeds a snack before bedtime. She's soooo hungry and she will positively pass out if she doesn't get a package or ten of fruit snacks. He worries that she will broadcast a louder and more persistent hunger cry in the middle of the night if she doesn't get her way, so he obliges her before bed needs. (Yes, he's a sucker, too. And?)

Now that she has managed to squeeze two snacks in between the hours of 6pm and 9pm, Alexis has no need for dinner. If you ask her, it has worked out perfectly. We all sit at the kitchen table together. As Mr. Husband and I try to eat, Alexis takes advantage of a captive audience and does stuff like this:

We're at the bottom of the mountain, but it is pretty darn fun down here.