Or so I thought...

... that I was going to survive this week.



Jason is out of town for the week - first time in a while, and I was looking forward to this week with dread. Chloe is in the I-must-be-held-by-mommy-constantly stage every week night, making things a bit of a challenge to get dinner ready. I just find it difficult to hover over boiling pots or open a 400 degree oven door with a screaming child glued to your knee cap.


Claire was very sad about Jason going, but trying not to be too pouty about it. We walked in her classroom Monday morning and she had a sad look on her face - a genuine one, not the fake lip poke. Her teacher asked her what was wrong and the crocodile tears started to flow - "daddy is out of town and not back until Friday..."


Monday night we walked in the house around 5:45 (early!) and I got dinner started. About half way through dinner I noticed that there was NOT something clinging to my leg. I glanced around - and Chloe and Claire were playing together! Riding their trains around the house and cooking in their own kitchen. It was fabulous! To commemorate the occasion I even snapped a photo of our lovely dinner: Parmesan crusted baked tilapia, steamed broccoli and cauliflower, garlic bow tie pasta and salad - and fully intended to post a blog entry about how my little Chloe is becoming so independent! *sniff*

Then Tuesday came. When grocery shopping this weekend, I picked out some quick and easy meals that would not make a ton and were kid friendly. Claire asked what was on the menu tonight while we were driving home from school - Tacos! Yes, the one from the "kit." Claire asked why we just didn't go through the Taco Bell drive through if we were having tacos? Insulted, I explain that HER mom cooks meals for her. Not (gasp) pick up some heart attack in a paper bag. (haha - like Old El Paso makes a "healthy" taco...)

I knew I was in trouble when I walked in the door and Chloe had the death scissor grip of her legs around my waist. Maybe she realized that she forgot to cling on Monday? Whatever the reason, there was nothing that could convince her to put her feet on the floor - not a snack, not a trip to the potty with big sis, not refilling the dog's food bowl. Nothing.

So, the tacos were cooked with one arm - the other toting a 26 lb toddler. Next time we're going to Taco Bell.