Tonight, fiance and I decided to make some homemade soup. It’s my step-mom’s recipe. Delicious chicken corn chowder. It’s delicious and with tons of vegetables. (If you want the recipe, let me know because it’s awesome!)
I’ve been working on my lack of domestic skills, so we were making it together and just hanging out. It was a little early, but after smelling the soup and it just simmering away in the next room, we thought we might as well eat. And by early, I mean 5pm. Oh well.
We put on some of The Office on Netflix and ate our delicious soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. We figured we would hang out at home. His best man was going to come over later and I was going to make some margaritas.
Sounds like the recipe for a perfect night, right?
That is until his phone goes off.
He gets a text from his mom saying, “We’re on the left side of the restaurant.”
She isn’t always the greatest at texting, so he figured she meant to send it to one of her friends since they frequently have girl’s night dinners. He sends one back saying “Wrong person.”
Then she calls. And we realize how bad we messed up.
His Granny is too sick to make the trip to the wedding, so she and Grandad told my MIL last week that they wanted all of us to go out to dinner to spend some time together before the wedding since they won’t be there. It was planned for tonight. At 6pm. MIL called at 5:59.
All chaos breaks out. See, I had gone tanning and had showered, and since we were just going to be at home, that meant old jeans, t-shirt, no make-up, and nothing done with the hair.
We fly into freak out/panic/teamwork mode. All the while laughing hysterically because we couldn’t believe what was happening.
He turned on my straightener for me and I was flipping out. I had done laundry, and then they were still in a pile and very wrinkled. (see: lack of domestic skills)
NTNW: I have nothing to wear!!
Fiance: You always say that. You have something. We have to hurry.
NTNW: Will you iron my dress while I straighten my hair???
Fiance: I have to get ready too.
NTNW: Which will take you 2 minutes. Please?!?!
So he turned into the greatest fiance ever and ironed my cotton dress because the cami and cardigan that go with it were, miraculously, already ironed. The laundry gods were looking down on me or something. I frantically made my hair at least look like I tried and maybe just the humidity got to it. I shoved clothes on. Grabbed a necklace and earrings. Fiance had my makeup in his hands and I put on my shoes and jewelery while running out the door.
From the time my MIL called, to the time we hit the car, it took us 6 minutes. That’s an insane record for me. Heck, for any girls who still had to straighten hair.
I did make up in the car and we concocted a little story about fiance getting back from cycling late. We hated ourselves that we forgot about the dinner that Granny and Grandad planned especially for us and we did not want them to know we forgot. Lying isn’t good, but I felt in this instance, it was the lesser of the two evils.
Remember how we ate dinner early? I was so full just from our soup and sandwich dinner, but we couldn’t go in there and say we weren’t hungry. So we both had a SECOND dinner. You know that big event in 12 days?? I’m trying to cut down on food…not eat TWO DINNERS.
We were miserable when we left, but I don’t think anyone was the wiser. We had a good time and enjoyed getting some special time with Granny and Grandad. We then came home, put on our stretchy pants and vowed to work out hard tomorrow. There was NO WAY we were going to be able to do any physical activity tonight.
I still feel awful about this, but at least we could spend time with them that they felt was special and I promised that I would take pictures with my camera of rehearsal dinner and I figured someone would take pictures with their own camera, and we will be bringing those over to Granny and Grandad’s to show them everything.
I must now go get in a hot bath and hope that second meal magically dissolves from my midsection. Cross your fingers for me.
New Teacher. New Wife.