Oh what an evening! As written in the last post, there are some thingsI want to improve on. One of those being how I handle dinner. So, this afternoon I was quite pleased with myself. I had been to the grocery store with Baby J and stuck completely to my list and purchased all of the ingredients I would need for dinner for the next 4 nights. I got home and Baby J was in a great mood so I put him in his high chair with some cereal to snack on while I unloaded the car. A few minor bumps but all was still going well enough. I realized my box of macaroni had expired (who knew that stuff goes bad?) and the recipe for the sandwiches called for a panini grill (which I do not have), a slight oversight on my part. But I pressed on. He was still in a great mood so I thought I would get dinner started. I put in his Wee Sing cd of Bible songs and sang along to him while he munched on cereal, grinning at me as I began some risotto (sounds impressive huh?) and starting cooking the chicken on the stove. I was thinking what a perfect picture of a housewife I would be when my husband came through the door after work. Singing songs with my son (Bible songs at that) while a wonderful dinner was being prepared. Seems pretty perfect doesn't it?
That is when it all hit the fan. First, the stupid risotto kept trying to boil over which is a serious problem on my stupid electric stove. Then, while dealing with that I let the chicken begin sticking to the pan and I was using my smallest frying pan which meant that it would probably get too hot and be a hassle the whole time. And then, Baby J starts sounding unhappy and I realize that it is time for him to eat and he is likely hungry. But, I can't leave the stupid risotto or it will boil over and the chicken is already beginning to burn so I am hoping Baby J will hold out until Daddy gets home and can feed him. So, as I am pouring more cereal out for Baby J to snack on (yes I know, mother of the year right here) and still singing trying to distract him, the darn smoke alarm goes off. Oh yes, it keeps getting better. Now don't worry, I wasn't putting us in danger. Our smoke alarm goes off if you sneeze wrong and the chicken sizzling for too long in the pan while I poured cereal was just too much. This really helped Baby J's mood. I yank the smoke alarm out of the ceiling (don't turn me in please) and try and salvage what is happening on the stove and begin making a bottle, all while praying my hubby comes soon so that he can feed my now very impatient son so that I don't burn the apartment down.
So now picture the scene. There is a very unhappy baby in his high chair, a smoke alarm dangling from the ceiling, a scent of burnt stuff wafting in the air, me quite frazzled, risotto burnt to the bottom of a pot, all with kids singing "The B-I-B-L-E" blaring in the background. A far cry from the earlier scene. And in walks my husband. Perfect. Luckily my husband is a very intelligent man, just smiled and kept his mouth shut and quickly cheered Baby J up while I finished up dinner.
Shockingly, it actually turned out pretty good, especially considering the circumstances. And my table was cleaned off so that we could all eat together.
Maybe before I try and follow through with my good intentions I should try and think things out a little better ahead of time.
2 comments:
Nice story. Glad to hear that Brock kept his mouth shut. I probably need to learn some lessons from the guy.
Reading your posts always makes me miss you three.
I wish I could tell you it gets better. Wait until Baby J wants to help stir everything, even the burning chicken. It is also good to keep the hubby's expectations low at this point. "It can only get better!" is what I keep telling myself and Jason!
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