Rosh Hashanah starts tomorrow night (tonight??) and I had a day of shopping, cooking and baking planned. I got the shopping done with E this morning (kosher meat: $375; case of kosher wine: $212; Giant produce and dry goods: $125). (Thank goodness I really, really, really believe in meat and wine; otherwise believing in kashrut seems masochistic.) But the errands took us past the beginning of E's nap, and she was a disaster, and the rest of the day was an ugly loop of her refusing to sleep or generally cooperate in any manner, threats of taking books away for every 'no' yelled throughout the house; many, many, many yells of 'no' screamed throughout the house; the complete removal of books from E's bedroom and 46 books removed from the family room; and can you imagine, L didn't get a good nap in, either.
We did have both girls asleep by 7:46pm tonight, which is about 90 minutes ahead of normal sleep schedule, but about 6 hours behind my planned cooking schedule. So manic and defiant had E been that we never even unpacked the non-perishables from my grocery run, so as I began sauteing mushrooms and leeks for a kugel I asked M if he saw the thyme. "It's right there," he said, pointing at it as he stepped over the potatoes on the floor. So less than a minute later when I asked, "dude, could I have the thyme?" he looked at me like a half-wit, inches as I was from the stove and its digital readout, and said seriously if sarcastically condescendingly, "du-ude, it's 8:01." And then I smiled sweetly as I tried to poke him hard in his lung-tumor scar, and reached down to get my own thyme.