Failure

Last Thursday I announced that I would cook dinner while Craig and his Dad continued to work on the house (Donna had to go to Enrichment; all other days she has faithfully worked on getting the house ready, too, just for the record). Since we only had three adults in Manassas, I figured it only made sense for me to take Kendra and Bentley home with me, too. No big deal, right?

Yeah, shoot me if I ever think that I can manage both kids while making enchiladas again. Maybe if I'd been cooking something that didn't require dipping my hands in a tomato-based mess of gloppiness, I could have managed, but not this meal, and not this night. In what I now realize was a major tactical error on my part, I decided to put Kendra in the highchair so that Bentley couldn't harass her. I should have put Bentley in the highchair, because then she would have been safe AND he would have been detained, but that didn't occur to me until AFTER Bentley had managed to trail cornflake crumbs from the table to the couch. And I'm not talking Hansel & Gretel breadcrumb trail. This basically looked like the yellow brick road.

Fortunately for my own sanity, once the enchiladas are put together, they need to bake for 45 minutes, so that gave me time to put Kendra to bed (the phrase "safe and sound" has a whole new meaning now that I'm always looking for places where Bentley can't reach her!), and also time for vacuuming. And Bentley loves it when I vacuum, so we had fun cleaning together. So with all that, by the time Craig and his Dad arrived for dinner, the house was no longer appalling. I won't go so far as to call it clean-- I couldn't do all that AND clean up the dishes I'd used to make dinner-- but at least it wasn't embarrassing.

Next time I'll just order a pizza.