I ordered pizza for dinner, again. Yes, I say again because it’s been a weekly “event” for the last couple of months as Award Winning Dad has been travelling a lot, the kids are taking up warmer weather activities, I’ve taken on some additional things on the side, and the Boss Man is being just that, a Boss. Today however was a different delivery.
When the doorbell rang this afternoon, the kids peered out of the front window and started jumping for joy. My initial thought was that Daddy was home early. When I opened the door the pizza delivery guy said “hello again!” I immediately avoided all eye contact for the rest of the exchange.
Big T opened the door wider as if to have him come in and join us like an old friend. Lil’J, asked “did you bring just cheese again, I only like cheese.” The Boss Man started to whine and jump to grab the hot boxes since he obviously knew what was inside. It was embarrassment beyond measure. I literally threw the cash at him and took the first bill he presented for change leaving him with disgustingly generous tip.
As I opened the box and watched the kids attack the pizza like challenge winners on a Survivor episode, all sorts of thoughts ran through my mind:
“Did I forget to feed the kids today?”
“Did we already order pizza this week?”
“How dare the pizza guy judge me like that with ‘hello again’, like who says that?”
“Am I a terrible mother?”
“Is my one year old really holding a slice of pizza and eating it himself?”
“Are babies allowed to eat pizza?”
“Should I Instagram that?”
“How did I let things get so busy I can’t even make dinner?”
“Am I clogging my kids’ arteries with double cheese?”
“Can I call the pizza company and ask for half my tip back?”
“I swear this is the last pizza we are ordering”
“What kind of mom am I if the kids have a relationship with the delivery man?”
I feel discouraged. It has been crazy here, not knowing if we’re coming or going, everything being done on the fly, once important things being pushed to the wayside (dinner is a good example of this), barely time to think much less blog. But, dinner was served. The kids ate without fuss, which is rare. Pots and pans didn’t need to be washed, and I avoided the massive after dinner kitchen clean up routine. The kids were able to play outside, and got to bed on time. And lookey here, even a minute to blog about this event in my life all because I ordered pizza… again.