Are the search engines putting me at the top after that title or what?! Bring it!
Back in November ‘02 I cooked dinner for my family of 4… Me, the Hubs, a 3 year old boy and a baby girl. Occasionally I would engage in a phone conversation whilst doing my own carnival tricks (a.k.a. “cooking dinner”). Ahhh, but mostly I cooked and survived “the witching hour(s)“ pretty much in desperation solitude. With either a baby or a chubby 3-year-old eye poker on my maternal hip. My evenings pretty much went as follows:
Stir, fix broken toy, stir, apply band aid to owie, chop, help with stubborn puzzle piece, chop, pull son away from firelplace, stir, wipe brow and count to 10– daddy will be home soon… stir, take knife away from son, fill sippy cup, change diaper, coax the potty-trainer, counting to 100… keep big brother from love-smothering baby sister… pray meat didn’t burn beyond repair, look up child’s nose for meat thermometer (because, yeah, it’s not in on the counter where I left it), give into crying (mom, and both kids) — where the H.E. Doublehockeysticks is Daddy!!!, soothe crying baby, open doors and windows, pray fire detectors will turn off soon, 3 year-old unconvinced that he does NOT have to watch mommy on the potty, wipes down counter, more crying/weeping/gnashing of teeth, … orders pizza, counting to 1000…
*que myocardial infarction* CLEAR!!!! *kachunk* “Beep, beep, beep…”
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