Thursday, September 23, 2010

I'm just going to go back to bed.

It's been that kind of morning.

 Last night, immediately after dinner and before the dishes were done, and before the loaf of breakfast bread in the oven was finished baking, the power died. This has happened no less than four times since we moved in, only this time it last for almost four solid hours.

Four solid hours, with nothing but two very pretty candles, two rambunctious toddlers, and an eleven year old that chose that very evening to assert her independence. The house sounded something like this, "give me the flashlight," "no, I want the flashlight," "stop pushing your sister" "no, I DON'T LIKE YOU, MICHELLE!"

Finally, when the power came back on at 930, the three year old had passed out mid scream, the toddler was wide awake and wild, and the eleven year old was sweet and apologetic. I went to bed, about as beaten as any mother has ever been.

Fast forward to this morning, as I seek to set right the house, which looks like last night's storm was inside, not out. I turned the oven on, to make peaches and cream muffins, only to find that the last peach had been taken after I'd already mixed the batter. As I searched for a replacement suitable for the rich, buttery muffins, my oven erupted in flames. Evidently last night's toad in the hole had erupted unnoticed, and left some grease in the bottom of the oven.

 Yes, baking soda is my friend. My house smells like an ashtray right now.

 With the batter for the muffins unusable until I scrub out the bottom of the stove, I set out to make homemade apple cinnamon oatmeal, only to find that the same person who had silently eaten the last peach had probably washed it down with the last of the apple cider, just as silently. I used my last egg in the peach muffin recipe, planned, and I can't bake anything until the oven until I'm able to return it to it's pre-Apocalyptic state, at least an hour from now.

As I'm attempting to find a solution to the mess at hand, Lovinangelbaby has taken the opportunity to scale the kitchen table no less than eight times with Chris Sharma like agility, leading me to squawk various reprimands and feel like I'm channeling mommy dearest.

My cabinets maintain their post move level of emptiness. As this months bills have rolled in, various installation fees, security deposits, administration fees, even a twelve year old past due bill have surfaced, my stock up trip has been pushed further and further into the future, as I buy just enough to get by between shifts at work, to prevent further detriment to our bank account. I was pretty firm on no eating out this month.

 Mr. lovinangels just went to get bagels.

When he comes home, I'm going back to bed.

Never mind, I'm going to scrub out the stove.


Carol said...

How do you know who Chris Sharma is anyway?

lovinangels said...

Um, you talk, I listen! I know most of the time my eyes are glazed over and I'm usually shouting at one (or more) children, but I do absorb some of the information that's passed on to me in the rare adult conversation.