Yesterday I felt like someone had beat me in the rear end with a bat. I had helped Steve do some work the day before and even though I am a very hard worker this somehow literally kicked my butt. Then I cleaned all day, you know, with two toddlers walking around behind me whining and putting the house back in it's original condition. Needless to say I was tired and still had hours to go.
Off to the grocery that is way over priced with two toddlers that are wired and an eleven year old that thinks candy is a food group. I go to the quick fixin's section and get some fajita stuff. Next, I wrestle the in-need-of-a-hot-bath toddlers and the eleven year old who didn't get to spend money on candy back into the car and drive home. I wrestle them out of the car, into the house, only to have the dog escape through the front door. I then proceed to yell at him so that every neighbor knows just how I feel about this dog escaping.
Next I put oil in the wok so that my family can have a meal. After it is nice and hot I "dump" the meat in and burn my arm. I say the "S" word while my toddlers look on and the eleven year old continues to ask me questions. Then I grab the handle of the wok and burn my hand. I decide some rice would be nice with our meal so I place this handy dandy pouch in the microwave. After 90 seconds I open the microwave and burn my finger on the vent hole. Thankfully dinner was good, and I succeeded in getting a meal on the table with only mild injuries.
I am actually a pretty good cook and do a good job of not damaging myself most nights. Fortunately, tonight went better although I wonder why I cook. The girls are off at youth group and the toddlers don't think it is necessary to consume food to survive. At least Steve and I don't have a hard time eating.
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