Dear Day Gone Awry



Dear Day Gone Awry,

You and I were getting along so well!  The sun was shining.  I was full of energy and ambition.

I was able to clean and organize so many things today.  I put away last summer's clothes.  I mopped the floor (first time in months)...due to an apple juice spill, but still.  That's besides the point.  We went to the library.  We visited grandparents.  It was glorious!

I was feeling so good about myself and all I had accomplished today.  As the sun set and I closed the back door, I told myself I would make an easy dinner and check Facebook while it cooked.  I hadn't heard the stealthy "Bwahahaha!  That's what you think!" from you until it was too late!

To continue my super-efficiency and awesomeness from the day, I plopped a piece of firewood and some cardboard boxes in the woodstove.  Little did I know that the whipping winds outside were consipiring to blow all the smoke my nice idea for a fire right back down the chimney and into the house.  We are now in a haze of smoke and the whole house smells like a Friday night end-of-camp fire.

After holding the door open for 20 minutes, chilling the house instead of heating it, as was the original plan, I decided it was time to get started on dinner.  Pork chops and rice.  Easy.  What a plan!  I was a genius. 

I gathered my ingredients, turned on the stove, and got to work.  Water boiling.  Rice in.  Check.  One pork chop breaded, two, three - it was beautiful.  Then all my hungry children arrived.  Ready and willing to help.  My five-year-old poured herself a glass of milk.  And about a half gallon for the table.  Apparently, it was thirsty. 

We put paper towels on top of the at mess until I could get to it.  Must finish the pork chops!  "Mommy, can I help?"  Asked my sweetly smiling 5-year-old.  She loves to help.  Well, why not?  I thought.  She has to learn sometime.  It may take a little longer, but I can be patient.  Several dripping, dropping pork chops and breading on the table later, I decided to take over.  Porkchops are tricky. 

We'll make pies together this week, I said.  Then I realized I forgot to grease the pan.  Moved all pork chops over, sprayed pan with oil, rearranged pork chops, put them in the oven.

So 45 minutes later, the food is done.  The house is filled with smoke and my eyes sting.  My 8-year-old has announced she doesn't want pork chops tonight.  And I made vegetables that no one (but me) likes, to top off the perfect meal.


Yoi!  Oh perfect day, where did you go?  When are you coming back?

Sincerely,

The Mom Who Tried.


p.s.  My 8-year-old just informed me that if she has to be in this smoke any longer, her eyeballs are going to pop out.




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