Husband is on a business trip; but even if he weren't, he often works past the kids' bedtimes and therefore misses what I like to refer to as the "dark hours". Insert "crazy" or "loud" for "dark" and that works too.
The dark hours occur from 5:00-8:00 every night (or later depending on how bedtime goes). They begin immediately as I start to prepare dinner.
Tonight, for example, as I was changing a dirty diaper on my screaming infant, I heard the water boil over on my super healthy boxed macaroni and cheese as my three year old, dressed in full sparkly Snow White regalia, came running through the living room, carrying bowls of "dinner" made from play-doh, slipped on said sparkly princess dress, and landed on the back of her head, sending bowls of play-doh "spaghetti and ice cream" flying and tears flowing.
I left my screaming infant on the changing table (he can't roll yet...thank god) and scooped her up, kissed her head, got her an ice pack, and collected the play-doh. I then made a bottle, drained the macaroni and cheese, chopped up some broccoli and threw it all on the table with all the grace I could muster.
5:43. Dinner is served.
Now we just have to make it two more hours...