What did you do all day? Let me tell you...

Husband has often commented that he does not enjoy coming home to a steam-snorting frazzled wife and a hastily prepared Tuna Helper with salad (still in the bag) dinner.

Ha, say I. Pardon monsieur, that I don't have the kids dressed, pressed, washed and brushed, lined up at the door to calmly and politely chorus, "Welcome home, dear Father." I will meet him halfway, though, and at least make a super good impression of a busy but upbeat mom with a pot roast and baked potato supper on the table and ready to eat.

As for the children, that is my slacking point. Tweenie will be doing her homework spread all over the living room, Rascal will be in some state of undress, and Kye will have unidentified food (?? let's hope it's food) remnants on his face and shirt. I try to leave my tales of frustration until after dinner is eaten, because bad news usually sits better on a satisfied stomach.

So now that I've done my best to compromise, you might well assume I'd have little patience for snarky comments, such as: "What did you do all day?" Previous indignant assertions that the house is spic and span at least once per 24 hours fall on deaf ears. The gradual repigmentation of my skin from peachy to mottled red is only noticed somewhere just shy of crimson.

I decide to track my waking hours for a few days and present him with evidence that I don't wile away my time gabbing on the phone and watching TV. Not that I actually believe any of this nonsense should be necessary, but I want some sort of proof so that he can't claim my heated rebuttals as excuses invented on the fly.

The First Day
6:30am - Wake up Tweenie, get her fed and off to the school bus
6:45 - Kye up, interferes with the above, fills his pants
6:50 - Try to change diaper quietly so Rascal doesn't wake up, but Kye isn't cooperating
7:00 - Frantically look for lost homework while putting final touches on school lunch
7:10 - Tweenie out the door in the nick of time
7:11 - Rascal up, woken by the slam of the front door
7:15 - Breakfast with the boys (although I don't actually get around to eating)
7:45 - change boys into day clothes, throw breakfast-stained pajamas in the wash
8:15 - bring boys into playroom, I plan to work on my laptop while they play
8:45 - first Time Out
9:15 - second Time Out
9:25 - third Time Out
9:30 - put on a movie for the boys, I try to work again
9:45 - realize Rascal sneaked away
9:55 - find Rascal with hair full of diaper cream
10:00 - realize Kye sneaked away
10:05 - find Kye eating cat food in the closet
10:10 - shower with the boys
10:30 - dress the boys in outfit #2 and jackets, go outside
10:45 - Time Out #4
11:00 - go for a drive... it doesn't matter where
11:30 - end up at McDonald's. They don't deserve to have this treat, but I'll do anything to make the screeching stop
12:30pm - come home, Kye goes for a nap
12:45 - quiet activities with Rascal
2:00 - Kye gets up, back into the playroom
2:30 - sneak away while boys are distracted and frantically start tidying up (notice this is the first moment I have had for this)
2:40 - hear suspicious sounds from playroom, go to investigate
2:45 - Time Out #5
3:00 - Tweenie home, make snack
3:30 - help Tweenie with homework, try to tidy up here and there at the same time
4:00 - business related phone call
4:15 - draft kids into housework
5:00 - some semblance of cleanliness in the house, start dinner prep
6:00 - finish making dinner
6:05 - while setting the table, notice that the whole house is a disaster once again
6:15 - Husband strolls in. Takes stock. "What did you do all day, honey?"

I inhale, ready for a tongue-lashing.

"I called you 'Honey'," Husband lamely notes. Realizing he's still in deep trouble, he hastily apologizes.

"Would you like to see my time card?" I ask sarcastically.

"How 'bout you just sit down and enjoy this really nice supper, and then afterwards I'll put the kids to bed and we can watch a movie together?" he attempts.

He salvages the evening, barely. The next day, he calls from work in the early afternoon and suggests we eat out for dinner. It seems he got the message.