And I laughed through it all.

Wednesday night A was out of town, and it was a work day. The events of the evening seem worth recording for posterity:

Pick girls up from day care.
Decide it will simplify dinner to pick up a you-bake pizza.
Tell Ingrid we are getting pizza.
Drive around tiny cramped pizza place parking lot looking for space.
Drive around block looking for parking space.
Drive around block again.
Drive around block again.
Finally find spot to park.
Get girls out of car.
Order, pay for, and wait for pizza.
Carry baby and pizza to door.
Get pizza guy to walk around counter to open door for me.
(Door opens inward—isn't that against code?)
Inch across parking lot with children and pizza in all limbs.
Place pizza on top of car.
Put girls in car.
Make right turn onto major neighborhood street at rush hour.
Accelerate.
Look in rearview mirror in time to see pizza flying spectacularly off roof of car.
Cry, "OH NO!"
Pull over.
Comfort Ingrid, who is crying.
Convince her it is the silliest, funniest thing that has ever happened.
Drive back to pizza place.
Circle parking lot. Twice.
Park illegally.
Get girls out of car.
Wipe cheese and mushrooms off of rear bumper.
Enter pizza place. Laugh sheepishly.
Tell pizza guy what happened.
Order duplicate pizza.
Gracefully accept 50% discount from kind pizza guy.
Wait for pizza.
Gracefully accept help (again) opening door.
Inch back to car.
Ingrid asks, "Mama, are you going to put the pizza on the roof again?"
Reply, "No, kiddo, I think I've learned my lesson."
....
Arrive home.
Turn on oven.
Feed hungry, tired baby her dinner while pizza bakes.
Field random phone calls from A's friends.
(Why did I not let the machine get them?)
Returning from answering a phone call, notice funny orange coloring on baby's upper lip.
Turns out big sister has drawn her a mustache.
Or tried to let her smell the scented marker.
Decide not to worry about it.
Baby becomes inconsolably tired.
Decide to put her to bed before pizza is ready.
Upstairs, whip off uncomfortable work shirt and bra to nurse baby.
Halfway through nursing, hear oven timer start to ring.
Let baby nurse for another minute.
Put baby in crib.
Rush downstairs, topless.
Remove pizza from oven just on the cusp of burning.
Run upstairs for comfortable bra and shirt.
Run down and cut up slice of pizza for Ingrid.
Baby is crying in crib.
Tell Ingrid to blow on pizza before she eats it.
Run upstairs to calm baby.
Put baby in crib again.
Cut myself a slice of pizza and sit down next to Ingrid.

Next time, I'll probably just make us all omelets and toast.