thank goodness for baby-stress eating, I guess

Do you feel for my friends? . . . they deal with these long, drawn-out stories regularly.  This was supposed to be one post - and rather then score points with all of you for the longest post ever, I have broken it up into 3 posts (you're welcome).  Lots of ground to cover, I guess.

Just before I ran into the grocery store, Coach called to see what was for dinner.  A bit of pizza casserole leftovers and the leftover pulled pork.  Here's where it gets complicated (apparently):  'If it doesn't look like there is enough, make a few chicken patties.  The kids love those and I have buns that need to be eaten anyway.'*

groceries:  half of my half load as the first half was
 already put away by the time I realized that
I needed a picture to share with you.

You know damn well that I did not just buy lunch-meat.  $225 later, I had collected a few things to feed us for a few days.  I cannot get my act together lately to buy enough stuff to last us a week - shit, I would take 5 days.  Instead I am running to the store for this or that every other day.  I mean at least the weather is delightful.  On Sunday night I freaked out because I realized I hadn't gone to the grocery store all weekend.  Coach ran out to get a gallon of vitamin D milk for the babies.  In his haste and in my distraction, we never checked on the milk supply for our family.  The next night I was out at the store on my way to get Reg from travel b-ball (not down the street) in a serious ice storm because we had NO MILK.  At all.  Who does that?   I kid you not, I was the only one in the store.

I was hating everything.  My burning eyes.  (wishing I had thought to take contacts out before I hopped in the car).  The grocery store.  The jeans I was wearing that I really love, but something about the waist makes my belly fat fall over the top of them and jiggle more than other jeans.  And hey, I admit the longer I sit in my damn house with screaming babies, the more I stress eat - or panic-eat, like 'not sure when I will be able to move from the couch.  No sudden movements if Scary starts to eat his bottle, better stock up on some serious calories now.'  Yes, that is a thing.

Shit.  Didn't mean to make this so lengthy.  'And the Oscar for the best digresser goes to . . .'  I came home.  At last.  Gave a 'be home in 3 minutes - need grocery help' text to Coach.  He had several warm bodies ready to help and he seemed confused afterwards:  'Is that it?'  Yep.  That's all I have energy for people.  A half a load of groceries.  Have no fear, I am sure I will be back at the dreaded grocery day after tomorrow.  Sigh.

Do you know what a bunt-ette is? 
Do you have
Nothing Bunt Cakes where you live? 
If you don't, you should.

I looked around.  Novel concept - someone had put away the dinner options?!  Ed swallowed hard as he pulled the remaining pulled pork out of the fridge.  He apologized.  I am sorry that I didn't think to photograph the three bites of pork that were left for me before I devoured them with the few remaining green beans and a healthy stack of mashed potatoes (we are Irish -there are always potatoes in the fridge).  Why did I not snap a photo?  It was after 6:30.  I guess I was hungry.  Fortunately my afternoon baby-stress eating saved me, because my fam forgot to save a portion of food for me. 

That's right.  All of this (three blog posts) to inform you that my people, the ones that I haul my ass to the store for multiple times a week, did NOT save me a sufficient portion of a gluten free dinner.  The suggested chicken patties 'if it looks like there isn't enough'* were never made.  I cannot eat a chicken (covered-in-gluten) patty.

Don't you worry though.  Remember that my mom dropped off a cake for the family for Valentines Day and she brought me a gluten free bunt-ette (I almost auto-corrected that to 'Brunette'.  I am that tired.  If my blog post announced that my mom brought me a gluten free brunette when I was hungry, you would have had questions - which might have required yet another post to explain). 

I dove right into my individual sized cake after my dinner-less meal.  As I was eating the cake, Lad called.  Sigh.