WTF, hubs?

The day before Thanksgiving I have a sweet little tradition where I go to Central Market and buy my fresh produce and any other last minute things I need before the cooking begins.  I love the hustle and bustle and picking out of only the most fresh green beans for one of my specialty dishes. It's been a "thing" and I love it. Then this year came along. Working mom. 2 year old. 4 month old. Cold, windy weather. So when hubs called from work and offered to hit up the supermarket (there's that word again, grrr daycare!) I was elated!  I emailed him a v. detailed list of precisely what I needed.  I cozied back into my little nook on the couch, cuddling both kids under a blanket and was in bliss. I even texted the Mother In Law to tell her how amazing her son was! (There may or may not have been a reference to how excellent his husband training was going after all these years. See? It CAN be done!)

When hubs got back from the supermarket (one of the special supermarkets on my approved "You May Buy Thanksgiving goods here" list) he even unloaded all the groceries. A-MAZING! Yet as he's doing this he is going on and on about how awesome Market Street's premade deli meals are.  In detail. He was saying something along the lines of "We don't even have to cook at all! The whole Thanksgiving is right there. Waiting for you! For just FIVE DOLLARS!" He then had to go back out to pick up the frying oil from another store.  I cuddled with the kids on the couch. Blissed out and amazed that hubs did all the Thanksgiving shopping AND unloaded groceries AND was going to the other store for me. Then I slowly started piecing together his last words. "Whole Thanksgiving Dinner....don't even have to cook."..... Um...... wtf, hubs?!

My suspicion quickly turned to borderline rage. Each step I stomped into the kitchen to see exactly what kind of damage had occured I prayed. Please. Say. He. Didn't. stomp. stomp. stomp. Ho. Lee. Shit! He DID. 

What you see here: mac n' cheese, brocolli cheese casserole, creamed corn, sausage balls, green beans almondine, garlic mashed potatoes, pecan pie, and pumpkin pie.

Exhibit B: cheddar cheese popcorn, Ritz, Coors Light, peanuts (enough for your pet elephant, thank God), velveeta, trail mix, Rotel x2, Owens sausage, gourmet summer sausage, and tamales. (Of course, tamales!)

So, I don't think I need to mention that these are not exactly the items that were on the itemized list of my specialty Thanksgiving dishes.  In fact, were fresh green beans even bought? Um, that's a negative.  Hubs bought himself a whole BANQUET of food to eat post-Thanksgiving. Were we planning a Black Friday football party? No.  White Trash Thanksgiving theme this year? No. Hosting a frat house? No.  This ladies, is what happens when you send hubs to the store and he hasn't eaten beforehand.

Thankfully he was out of the house when I saw this kitchen nightmare... I totally needed the spare thirty minutes to calm down before he came home to me.

I did have to make a grocery run when he got back for the fresh green beans. Thankfully, miracle of all miracles, neighborhood Kroger folks were also in cheerful, lightning speed shopping mode, so navigating was quick.  Thankfully, hubs watched both kids so said run on Thanksgiving Eve NIGHT (nightmare time to shop) went much smoother than anticipated.

Update: Did hubs eat all the food? No. Not yet.  Cleaning lady comes this week, so he gets to sit in front of the fridge with a trash bag and throw out whatever spoiled before he got a chance to eat it. Thankfully most of the goods in pic 2 never expire (or is that kind of gross? I don't know.)  And he did make a good dent in the stuff on pic 1. (Cadester helped. I refused. I pretty much got to polish off my homecooked leftovers by myself and sent the other two thirds of them home with our family on Thanksgiving day.)

Moral of the story: Don't let hubs shop hungry. 
Wifely lesson: I still love this man. One of the endearing traits I loved about him is his childlike spirit. We both love being kids at heart, and I know that this grocery run was a HUGE success for his 12 year old self.  (Enter visual of skinny little pubescent Nick fist pumping the air in his tapered leg jeans and Nikes.)  I love that man.