The oven is officially dead. Nerdguy was shopping online last night and declared “Forget the oven. Let’s get a vending machine!” I think he was hoping that I would put up a fight, but I am fully on board with that plan. It is one step further in my journey to become Judy Jetson. So you can imagine how disappointed I was when he ordered an oven. No tasty snacks dispensed in the manner of casino slot machines. A lost opportunity to teach the children about how a number and letter co-ordinate system works. Or how to problem-solve when the selected treat gets stuck part-way down. Obviously I am the only one around here who is concerned with their education.
I am also the only one concerned about induction tops, “boil water in 30 seconds”, and split ovens. I put my foot down on my convection requirement. How else am I supposed to cook gourmet meals like this:
You want -5 star meals every night, you have to provide the proper equipment for the job. Fish sticks don’t just make themselves you know.
Grace and Molly joined Brownies this year for the first time. They are loving it so far. This week they were told to bring hammers with their names or initials on them. It is a pretty good indication that I have been watching far too many crime shows when my immediate thought is that Brown Owl might be planning to bump someone off and frame a brownie for it with a nicely labelled murder weapon.
|30 kids swinging hammers. What could go wrong?|
We had the kids’ school open house tonight, which I had to take the kids to by myself because Nerdguy already had a big meeting that couldn’t be rescheduled. I was in my usual state of delusion that it wouldn’t be that bad. It was a gong show. They had a bbq first, which meant standing in a ridiculous line, while trying to keep Maggie from running off. This involved a lot of flailing about and a level orange on my alertness for disaster scale.
Then it was time to visit the classrooms, which should have been easy, since I only had 2 to go to this year.
My logic was clearly flawed.
It’s like saying, “We’re only going to snap one of your fingers off, instead of 3, so it should be easy peasy.”
Maggie is moving. All of the time. And her movements are large and unpredictable, so it’s never clear until it has happened that she is going to lurch sideways and step on some lady’s foot. Or grab some dad’s ass. So unclear, in fact, that each of these things happened multiple times. There may be a bulletin circulating with our faces on it.
|See the blur that is Maggie’s legs? Always moving.|
|“What do you mean you want me to sit still?”|
|“Okay, I’ll sit. But we’re gonna rock this thing out.”|
Oh, and for the record…if anyone thought they heard me ask where the bar was at the open house…that wasn’t me. Because only a lunatic would ask that at an elementary school. Or the mother of a rock star.