Hi! I’m Jessica and I currently blog (haphazardly) over at booshy. It’s mostly filled with overly cute baby pictures right now. Fair warning to your uteruses…uteri?

 

First, let me say I’m honored to be guest posting for Joie! I keep saying, “Joy-ie! Joy-ie! JOY-ie!” in my head whenever I say her name…no idea why…anyho.

 

I think it’s awesome we’re both living in the fabulous state of Colorado. It took my husband and me YEARS to finally get out here. I’m from Georgia, he’s from Upstate New York. Both East Coasters who fell in love with the mountains out West.

 

I should probably mention we – that is my husband, Tim, and I – are thirteen years apart. He’s the older one – just to clarify. They say girls mature faster than boys and he says he’s still immature, so, it works. After being married for almost five years, we just added to the family this past February with our first child, a little boy named Kellan. He’s the cutest baby on the planet. Gerber should probably be using him in commercials and print ads.

 

For serious.

 

Anyhow, that’s not at all what I want to talk about…though I could probably drone on ad nauseum…

 

Instead, let’s talk about how inept Tim and I are at dinner. Specifically, figuring out what to eat.

 

When I say inept, I mean we suck at it. Blow chunks. Fail miserably. Should be given a schwift kick in the you-know-where for being so bad at such a simple task.

 

We both are Type A personalities and also become hangry (overly starving + angry). Hangry to the point we start to have senseless, asinine arguments that will escalate in ridiculousness that is directly proportional to the amount of time it takes to finally shove food into our face.

 

You’d think we would just stop anywhere – McDonalds, Taco Hell, a random van selling tamales out of their back seat (true story) – anything to cease the hangry pains and bickering but noooooooo.

 

We get our heart set on something specific, like Thai food, and must have it.  This actually just happened this past weekend. And when we want something, we decide come hell or high water, we’re gonna FIND IT.

 

Problem is, we now have a tiny child to attend to who only understands COME HELL OR HIGH WATER when it pertains to his needs.

 

Totally understandable. He’s five months old. We should have known better. However, it was something we stupidly overlooked, probably because of our hangriness (totally a word) [Editor’s note: it completely is, as well as being a very real condition–don’t knock the raw power of a hangry woman.]. First time parent fail.

 

Let’s set the scene: we leave a party with Kellan late in the afternoon, thinking he’d fall asleep in the car while we went to go pick up food from a random Thai restaurant we basically picked from obscurity that also happened to be about thirty minutes away.

 

This? Recipe for certain meltdown disaster by all involved.

 

I call the restaurant on the way there…and this woman answers, sounding hurried. I tell her I’d like to place an order to pick up. She tells me, “Sorry…we closed for wedding.”

 

Um….huh?

 

I tell Tim.

 

He laughs.

 

And keeps driving.

 

I try to find another place, scrambling on his iPhone, racing against his dwindling battery (WHY ISN’T YOUR PHONE CHARGED?!).

 

Second place I call….no answer…..

 

Third?

 

CLOSED ON SUNDAY.

 

Strike three.

 

By this point, we’re in no man’s land, halfway to a Thai restaurant that won’t take our order, and halfway to home.

 

Tim is all, “What do we do?”

 

I’m all, “Whatever. Let’s just go home. I have no idea. Kellan is getting to the end of his happy time…and he isn’t falling asleep.”

 

Tim: “What do you want me to do? I have no idea what to do.”

 

Me: “I DON’T KNNOOOOOW.”

 

Tim: “Where should I go?”

 

Me: “I. DON’T. KNOW.”

 

Continue this back and forth about having no idea what to do or what to eat or where to go until everyone is overly frustrated and irrational and Kellan is screaming at the top of his lungs because HE. IS. DONE.

 

Had we not had Kellan, we would have kept driving, shooting exchanges back and forth, the tone of our voices escalating, the frustration mounting…

 

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

 

ME EITHER.

 

WHERE DO WE GO?!

 

I DON’T KNOW.

 

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

You’d think we’d learn after years – and I’m talking Y-E-A-R-S – of going through this exact same back and forth.

 

We’ve done it on the streets of Paris (yes, France). We’ve done it in London (Yay, Olympics!!!!). We’ve done it in Hawaii and Utah and Wyoming and within the walls of our own house whilst slamming pantry and refrigerator doors.

 

I don’t know why it is so damn hard to just PICK SOMETHING AND GO WITH IT.

 

When we finally made it home the other night, all I could think about was getting Kellan calmed down. As we made our way into the house, sans sustenance, Tim was like, “What do you want me to do? Do I need to go back out and get something?”

 

At this point, all I could think was: Stop baby crying. I don’t give fifteen flying fairies what we eat.

 

I think I said something like, “I don’t care. Anything. I will eat ANYTHING. A sandwich. A burger from McDonalds. It doesn’t matter.”

 

(And I hate McDonalds, for the record)

 

Tim looked at me like, “That doesn’t help me. YOU’RE THE PICKY ONE.”

 

I think my mind exploded, then, because the next thing I remember saying is, “PSHHHH. Sometimes you have to go it alone, cowboy. Can’t you just PICK SOMETHING?!”

 

Tim: “Whenever I bring anything home you….”

 

I didn’t even let him finish.

 

Me: “When have you EVER brought anything home that wasn’t something I specifically asked you to get?”

 

Silence.

 

I walked upstairs with Kellan, calmed him down and put him to sleep, came back downstairs to see Tim sitting on the couch, watching TV, zero percent closer to obtaining food, and my brain exploded again.

 

I decided to take matters into my own hands.

 

Cake. Granola bar. Consumed.

 

For good measure, I gave Tim a guilt trip, something like, “Whatever. It’s fine. I guess I just won’t have any dinner….*long audible sigh…….*” on my way back upstairs, since Kellan had woken up and I needed to go tend to him.

 

(FYI: The guilt trip works, girls…use it)

 

As I was putting Kellan back to sleep for the second time, I hear the garage door open and Tim’s car start. Then, I get a text all, “I’m going to Wendy’s. What do you want?”

 

My question to the universe that is our failing with dinner?

 

WHY COULDN’T WE HAVE DONE THIS AN HOUR AGO?

___________________________________________________________

Check out Jessica’s blog!  It’s similarly hilarious and honest.  I’m so thrilled she was willing to do this with her hands full with a five month old.  I’m also pretty happy I’m not the only one who gets hangry. 😉  My guest blog was over there last Thursday, should you want to see it.

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