The following is a true story. It contains truths that may trigger some mama’s and may induce laughter in others which may make you feel guilty for finding humor at my expense. And this happens to be my favorite style of writing – humorous/essay. The events of this afternoon, all happening in under 20 minutes, inspired me. All I can say is do not try this at home.
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Lookin’ to toot my own horn and maybe garner up a bit of sympathy plus provide some laughs all in one post. It goes a little something like this….
There’s this female who has a mate and a child. She does a lot for her family. Makes many things from scratch ~ laundry soap, deodorants, tooth powder, room sprays, hand sanitizers and chicken tenders. Today I realized I needed to make the tenders. Well, at first that is.
So I’m in the kitchen – child at the stove making her lunch. Mate was out in the garage – recovering from his visit to the corporate store with the wi-fi emitters and whatever else they have inside that dayem place that takes graphene oxide, etc. and spreads that happy sheot everywhere. (he spent too much time in there but did manage to come home with some silver coins found in the change machine) Child and I had both already felt it and were doing our own protocols to help (thank you SO MUCH to Sister C and the folks at Medica Health for the bottles – they are being utilized daily).
Anyway – I realized I needed to make bread crumbs. Do that. Then remember the chicken was still frozen so I get it out, place it in the sink and accidentally put the hot water on high – spraying chicken juice all over the place including freshly washed dishes. No big deal, I’ll get the chicken breaded and into the oven then clean and sanitize the place with mama’s homemade hand sanitizer. Got the chicken in the oven – wash hands – go to find the sanitizers.
Not so fast. I realized I needed to make more. Sheot, I think, turning around and realize daughter has spilled part of her lunch prep on the rug in front of the stove. Call out for her to come take care of it. 500 hours go by and nothing so I call out again and realize she’s tuned me out again and/or has gone off into another dimension. Pre-teen style. So I grumble, grab the rug, walk to the front door, trip over my mate’s walker and even though it’s large and I should have seen it in my chicken/bread crumb/hand sanitizer/daughter’s lunch mess HAZE I don’t see it, manage to get outside with the rug in hand, shake it out, bring it back inside and wipe it down, make the hand sanitizers, then sterilize the counters and re-wash the dishes.
Then I glance into the living room and see my glue gun plugged in, sitting on my beautiful glider. WHAAAAAAA???? So I call out to my girl. Again. I guess the frequency of my voice this time penetrated her bubble for she yelled back “WHAT?!”
“Please get out here NOW”, I requested. Ooooh was my patience starting to get taxed. She walks out – claims loudly SHE did not plug it in she had actually UNPLUGGED IT. I said I’m just showing you what I found. Not possible, she is insisting, unplugging it and putting it away. Again – a dimensional issue at play apparently. I return to the kitchen and try to find my train of thought.
Now during this time, mate has come in at least a dozen times asking if someone could bring him this or that and each time I give him a look like “you’re joking right? can you NOT see what I’m doing?” Daughter is, well, a tween and in another dimension.
So I got the chicken in the oven. The dishes washed. Sanitizer made. Kitchen counters and sink sanitized. Then I look on the floor and do this:
In my haste to do the above, there are bread crumbs and chicken juice and whatever-the-frig my kid was making for lunch all over the place. So I get the rag, toss half a bottle of dish soap onto it because hey, at this point, who gives a flying frig if I waste anything, throw it onto the floor and start cleaning. Mate comes in – starts to say something – sees what I am (still) doing and the look I give him – freezes, turns around and walks out.
Wait, aren’t I still your beautiful queen you just called me 30 minutes ago??
And now – the oven timer is beeping – and has been for at least 5 minutes – telling me the chicken tenders are done. The chicken tenders that started all of this.
And I let it beep.
And I ask is it naughty of me to let them burn to a crisp and serve them with dinner – with the mashed potatoes my daughter has been asking every 5 minutes if I am still going to make for dinner.
GRUB’S UP!
Love,
The Divine Queen (SOMEWHERE) who got transformed into a 3d kitchen slave who really needs a maid and a nice retirement and a hot tub and a slice of chocolate cake
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