So, it occurs to me with my insomnia of late (that I hope and pray the antibiotics will clear up) that I could have been blogging about Ian. Hmph. I wasn't. How the hell will I ever have a celebrity child if I don't MAKE it happen!?

So today the children attacked my lazy ass in bed for breakfast. They want pancakes. You know what, jerks? I'm aaaaallll out of Bisquick. They don't care. And FORTUNATELY for me, the fiiiiiiaaaanceee has moved himself and all of his stuff in. Crisis averted. If you've ever wavered about letting a nearly forty year old bachelor move in to your house, well, go with it. They come with bread machines and whole wheat flour. So I got out the ONLY cookbook that I've ever liked, and found a recipe for pancakes. I made whole wheat pancakes for them. I'm so super awesome. From SCRATCH people. That involves eggs and baking powder and stuff. The bachelor that now sleeps in my room also came with baking powder. Convenient.

Then we had to buy wedding shoes. Ian was very intent on getting some Skechers Sponge Bob flip flops to wear in the wedding. If he'd shut up about Sponge Bob, I'd take him to Culvers for lunch. He shut up and had a butter burger and onion rings and frozen custard for lunch. Why isn't this child enormous?

And dinner. Well, dinner was a cluster fuck. And I'm not editing that word, it WAS a cluster FUCK. I'm ill and needed to see a doctor and my current option is the Catholic Urgent Care because they pity me and give me a discount. So, I have flank steak all happily marinating to make fajitas at the request of the fiiiiiaaaanceeee. I bag them up with minced garlic, hot sauce, tequila, citrus juice and lime and whatever spices I'm feeling. I included smoked paprika today. Mmmmm. It's my new favorite spice. But, fiiiiiiiaaaaneee's car breaks down SERIOUSLY like a block from here. It has to be towed home. Ridiculous. The car is around the corner. So, after all the excitement, I text dinner directions from the doctor's office. I have no idea what Ian ate because he's a whiny mess. Poor kid. I have no idea why. I hope he doesn't require antibiotics, too. He didn't even request dessert or a snack. Something is wrong.