Making Pancakes

I picked him up from the Orange County Airport last night. With Polo perched in my lap, we circled the Arrivals terminal in hopes of see the smile that always melts our hearts. JD waved from the curb and we pulled up and greeted him.

JD stayed with our friends, Todd and Elisa and he talked nonstop of their generous hospitality. Over our late-night dinner, JD recounted in vivid detail Elisa’s domestic goddessness. So, one night, she made foccacia bread from scratch. From SCRATCH! And homemade cookies for dessert! And she went grocery shopping and, guess what?! She unloaded the bags BY HERSELF! She’s a great wife and mother!

I slurped slowly from my chilled water. There were so many exclamation points in his narrative I was afraid he was going to bust a vein in his forehead. All of a sudden, the list of things I was supposed to do before JD returned—but didn’t—felt magnified. Get an oil change, fold the laundry, go grocery shopping, and make a homemade dinner for his arrival…

In attempts of regaining some wifey confidence, I cleared his plate from our Pei Wei table. I thought to myself, Heeeey, look at me, I’m domestic! Unfortunately, the bus boy told me to leave our plates at the table because they’re cleared for us. Didn’t he know I was TRYING TO BE A GOOD WIFE?!?

This morning I woke and wanted to make pancakes for JD. But then that whole Didn’t Go Grocery Shopping thing got in the way. Instead, I told JD I thought about making pancakes. Which is totally the same. Really, it is.

And here’s my all time favorite pancake song…it makes me laugh every time and I’ve watched at least a million times. I don’t know what this says about my humor (besides the fact that I still like the same things I did when I was in the eighth grade), but I think this kid deserves a recording contract…