...if you ask a 10-year-old boy to make an out of order sign for the microwave and later come in to find THIS taped to the offending appliance:
Showing posts with label Kitchen Mishaps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kitchen Mishaps. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Friday, July 10, 2009
When kids are literal...
The other night, Chris made stuffed bell peppers for dinner. There were two green ones, a red, a yellow and an orange. He gave Gabe first choice (yes, I know, my kids are really weird and will eat stuffed peppers!) and he chose orange. Of course, Timothy then wanted orange, too, but we didn't have another orange one. I gave him a yellow one and told him, "This one has your name on it!"
Skip forward 45 minutes, and Timothy is STILL at the table. This is unusual. He normally inhales his food in under 10 minutes. So I went back to check on him and he was dejectedly clearing his empty plate. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I ate all my dinner," he replied, "but I couldn't find my name written on my pepper."
Skip forward 45 minutes, and Timothy is STILL at the table. This is unusual. He normally inhales his food in under 10 minutes. So I went back to check on him and he was dejectedly clearing his empty plate. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I ate all my dinner," he replied, "but I couldn't find my name written on my pepper."
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Visitor
Some weeks ago, I arrived home from knit group to find the house mostly dark and Chris asleep on the couch. I set my bag down and walked into the kitchen, where I saw a spot on the rug. In the low lighting, I thought it was a hairball that someone had kindly horked up on the kitchen rug. I grabbed a paper towel and flipped on the light. This little guy is definitely NOT a hairball. Seriously, I live with six house cats, and not one of them noticed a 12 inch long grass snake! They're fired. Anyway, I caught him and returned him to the front yard, advising him that however welcome he was to hibernate in my flower beds, he was not at all welcome to hibernate in my kitchen. He hasn't returned, so I guess he took the hint.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Choking on fumes!
What is it about spring that causes me to suddenly and obsessively clean my house? I don't claim to be a good housekeeper. I feel that "good" is a relative term. If you've spent much time in the 9th Ward in New Orleans (post-Katrina!), my house may look lovely in comparison. So when I speak of being a "good" housekeeper, I must refer back to the way I was raised. And let me tell you, I was raised better than this!!!
I started scrubbing the cabinet doors in the kitchen. The dirt had more dirt under it. Under that dirt was stains. Under the stains was more dirt. How did this happen to me? I remember my childhood. I don't remember our house ever being this filthy. Of course, my mother had far more sense than to ever purchase a house that had white cabinets, floors, appliances and trim. And she had more sense than to produce TWO male children. I should probably give my father some credit, too. After all, it was his "X" chromosome that made me who I am today. Anyway, I cleaned for two solid hours. The result is that I now realize I need to clean some more. In order to protect my few remaining brain cells, I had to open some windows. The fumes were starting to get to me. When the dirt started shrieking shrilly as I wiped it off, I knew I needed some fresh air. So I opened the windows, and now gale-force winds are blowing through my house. Outside, in my neighbor's yard, a squirrel is clinging for dear life to the branches of an oak tree, trying to avoid being blown to Kansas. I'm going to have to shut the windows. And quit cleaning the house before it I find anything I didn't want to know about!
I started scrubbing the cabinet doors in the kitchen. The dirt had more dirt under it. Under that dirt was stains. Under the stains was more dirt. How did this happen to me? I remember my childhood. I don't remember our house ever being this filthy. Of course, my mother had far more sense than to ever purchase a house that had white cabinets, floors, appliances and trim. And she had more sense than to produce TWO male children. I should probably give my father some credit, too. After all, it was his "X" chromosome that made me who I am today. Anyway, I cleaned for two solid hours. The result is that I now realize I need to clean some more. In order to protect my few remaining brain cells, I had to open some windows. The fumes were starting to get to me. When the dirt started shrieking shrilly as I wiped it off, I knew I needed some fresh air. So I opened the windows, and now gale-force winds are blowing through my house. Outside, in my neighbor's yard, a squirrel is clinging for dear life to the branches of an oak tree, trying to avoid being blown to Kansas. I'm going to have to shut the windows. And quit cleaning the house before it I find anything I didn't want to know about!
Friday, April 11, 2008
When multi-tasking goes wrong...
Did you ever find yourself wondering how you got there and what it all means? Not in a thoughtful, existential way, but more in a perplexed and confused way. I had that experience last night.
Chris was working late, the boys and I had been to martial arts and were rushing around trying to get chores done before bedtime, a typical Thursday night. Well, not typical because lately I have ten times more to do than I have time to do things. Thus, the multi-tasking. I started off gathering the trash because the pick-up is Friday mornings. The next thing I knew, I was standing in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters and wondering why the trash was yet ungathered. It took some thought, but I was finally able to retrace my steps. Here's how it went:
1. While pulling the trash bag out of the kitchen trash can, I saw some sippy cups that I'd thrown away because they were old an leaky. This caused me to remember that I'd seen a sippy cup in Timothy's bedroom. I thought I'd better go get it and make sure it wasn't leaky, and therefore, ready to go in the trash.
2. The sippy cup turned out to be ok, so I went to the sink to rinse it. While at the sink, I noticed a lot of gunk around the faucet. This, of course, needed to be cleaned with Clorox wipes. Which would then need to go in the trash, before it was taken out because I'm a strange little perfectionist. Off I went to the bathroom to search for the Clorox wipes.
3. In the bathroom, I was leaned under the sink looking for the wipes, and I noticed that the floor around the toilet was disturbingly disgusting. I have boys. So I decided to wipe that with the Clorox wipes while I was at it. Then, I took the wipes to the kitchen.
4. As I was wiping the faucet gunk, I noted that the counters were really awful and covered in crumbs. I realized it had been ages since I moved the bread box and canisters to scrub behind them.
So that is how, half an hour later, I found myself scrubbing counters when I had not yet gathered the trash. It's really no wonder that my children find me amusingly simpleminded! Just look how easy it is to distract me with some simple faucet gunk! In retrospect, I probably shouldn't share this story, since it gives a realistic view of my terrible housekeeping skills.
Chris was working late, the boys and I had been to martial arts and were rushing around trying to get chores done before bedtime, a typical Thursday night. Well, not typical because lately I have ten times more to do than I have time to do things. Thus, the multi-tasking. I started off gathering the trash because the pick-up is Friday mornings. The next thing I knew, I was standing in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters and wondering why the trash was yet ungathered. It took some thought, but I was finally able to retrace my steps. Here's how it went:
1. While pulling the trash bag out of the kitchen trash can, I saw some sippy cups that I'd thrown away because they were old an leaky. This caused me to remember that I'd seen a sippy cup in Timothy's bedroom. I thought I'd better go get it and make sure it wasn't leaky, and therefore, ready to go in the trash.
2. The sippy cup turned out to be ok, so I went to the sink to rinse it. While at the sink, I noticed a lot of gunk around the faucet. This, of course, needed to be cleaned with Clorox wipes. Which would then need to go in the trash, before it was taken out because I'm a strange little perfectionist. Off I went to the bathroom to search for the Clorox wipes.
3. In the bathroom, I was leaned under the sink looking for the wipes, and I noticed that the floor around the toilet was disturbingly disgusting. I have boys. So I decided to wipe that with the Clorox wipes while I was at it. Then, I took the wipes to the kitchen.
4. As I was wiping the faucet gunk, I noted that the counters were really awful and covered in crumbs. I realized it had been ages since I moved the bread box and canisters to scrub behind them.
So that is how, half an hour later, I found myself scrubbing counters when I had not yet gathered the trash. It's really no wonder that my children find me amusingly simpleminded! Just look how easy it is to distract me with some simple faucet gunk! In retrospect, I probably shouldn't share this story, since it gives a realistic view of my terrible housekeeping skills.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Cake Lamentations
Oh, Lord, why didst Thou lead me out into this wilderness of Wilton character pans and decorating tips? Why didst Thou resign me to multi-colored fingers and icing stained counter tops? Why did I give birth to my firstborn son in the month of February? And why doth he insist on a complicated cake each year since?
Why didst Thou then allow me to fall in love with and marry a wonderful man, whose birth also happened in the ill-timed month of February? Most of all, why was I born a competitive first child, doomed to walk the earth in search of ways to outdo all the other wives and mothers when it comes to birthday? Why was I allowed to run out of icing at midnight, and have to scrap the whole idea of making a fantastic Greenbay Packers cake (after having made an Elmo cake already that night...bear with me, folks, there's no good way to order this lament!)
Why, oh why didst Thou allow my wonderful husband and me to suddenly lack the ability to count to nine, and thus give birth to a second son, also born in February, two days after his father? Why is he obsessed with Elmo, and insistent upon having an Elmo cake?
When will I be rewarded for my toils? Oh, Lord, when I look upon my second born, covered in red icing, I am reminded of why I toil upon the earth! Look at that face! Even though Thou hast delivered me into a wilderness of Wilton, I am blessed with icing-covered children!
Ok, here's the story. Gabe wanted a race car cake this year, and I was thrilled. I already own the pan, and have made that particular cake many times. Unfortunately, the night before his birthday I realized that the pan had been swallowed in the black hole that hides in our house, waiting to swallow items forever. That resulted in a last-minute trip to Hobby Lobby for a newer and more complex race car cake pan. Which I finished moments before it was time to leave for his party. Then, since Chris and Timothy have birthdays two days apart and Chris and I were leaving for Houston on Timothy's birthday, we decided to combine their celebrations and split the difference. This left me with the task of making two cakes in one night. Timothy's came first. Unfortunately, I didn't finish it until almost midnight, and by then was too tired and sticky to make another complicated cake. So Chris got an ugly cake. It still tasted good, and once it was on fire, you couldn't really tell it was ugly.
Why didst Thou then allow me to fall in love with and marry a wonderful man, whose birth also happened in the ill-timed month of February? Most of all, why was I born a competitive first child, doomed to walk the earth in search of ways to outdo all the other wives and mothers when it comes to birthday? Why was I allowed to run out of icing at midnight, and have to scrap the whole idea of making a fantastic Greenbay Packers cake (after having made an Elmo cake already that night...bear with me, folks, there's no good way to order this lament!)
Why, oh why didst Thou allow my wonderful husband and me to suddenly lack the ability to count to nine, and thus give birth to a second son, also born in February, two days after his father? Why is he obsessed with Elmo, and insistent upon having an Elmo cake?
When will I be rewarded for my toils? Oh, Lord, when I look upon my second born, covered in red icing, I am reminded of why I toil upon the earth! Look at that face! Even though Thou hast delivered me into a wilderness of Wilton, I am blessed with icing-covered children!
Ok, here's the story. Gabe wanted a race car cake this year, and I was thrilled. I already own the pan, and have made that particular cake many times. Unfortunately, the night before his birthday I realized that the pan had been swallowed in the black hole that hides in our house, waiting to swallow items forever. That resulted in a last-minute trip to Hobby Lobby for a newer and more complex race car cake pan. Which I finished moments before it was time to leave for his party. Then, since Chris and Timothy have birthdays two days apart and Chris and I were leaving for Houston on Timothy's birthday, we decided to combine their celebrations and split the difference. This left me with the task of making two cakes in one night. Timothy's came first. Unfortunately, I didn't finish it until almost midnight, and by then was too tired and sticky to make another complicated cake. So Chris got an ugly cake. It still tasted good, and once it was on fire, you couldn't really tell it was ugly.
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