The Not-So-Super Bowl

Ahh, where to start. It was a busy weekend-maybe I over did it? We decided to watch the game at home by ourselves since P would be ready for bed by 7:30ish. By the time the Super Bowl began at 6:30, I was already beat. But because this day is close to a holy day for my husband, I sucked it up and began cooking his Super Bowl dinner: southern fried chicken (from scratch) and corn casserole.

Keep three things in mind:

1. I am HUGE and back into the tired phase of my pregnancy.

2. I don't eat chicken.

3. I have a small cast iron skillet so I have to cook the chicken in batches, which takes forever.

Nearly two hours after I began, the first batch of chicken was done along with the corn casserole.

I inform Tom who in turn informs me he is NOT hungry anymore and doesn't want anything. Nothing. Not a leg, not a kernal of corn.

I think I cried for the next hour. Then I went to bed. I didn't care who won. I hated football. And I hated fried chicken. Sorry Steelers, but at least you weren't scrubbing grease off your kitchen countertops this morning.

But for your viewing pleasure, here are some photos of the boys before things went downhill: