It’s been way too long since I’ve posted anything, I know. And yet, I haven’t felt as though I have anything worth posting and since I want to be respectful of your time (because, seriously, if you’re reading my blog, you’re amazing and all things wonderful), I’ve kept the silence going. As I alluded to in my last post, I have lots of stuff I’m ruminating on when I have a few moments to myself, but I still am not sure how on earth to express what I’m thinking. So, instead of something deep and insightful *snort*, I will share with you how I almost burnt down our house this past week.
This week was insanely busy between play dates, library fun, Clara having a physical therapy appointment, Levi’s FIFTH birthday on Thursday, a girls’ night on Friday, Levi’s birthday party on Saturday, and our normal routine (Matt teaching lessons here two nights a week, Bible study for him, senior high mentor group for me, etc.) and by Wednesday I was feeling a little like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. But, I was determined to get through without breaking down or losing my mind.
So, Wednesday. Clara had a PT appointment in the morning and so the afternoon was spent making muffins for a special birthday breakfast the next morning for Levi as well as brownies for his birthday dessert (I know. I’m a glutton for punishment. But he turned FIVE!). I finished the muffins and brownies and then started to prepare dinner, a frittata. Super easy, minimal work, it’s a win-win. I started the frittata on the stove and then put it in the oven to finish cooking. I clean up the kitchen a little, play with Clara (who’s in the kitchen with me) and put the muffins away. Then, I pulled the frittata out of the oven and sprinkled some cheese on the top and put it back in the oven. And then I did what I always do. I chucked my oven mitts on top of the stove till I needed them again. I grabbed Clara and went into the living room to check on the kids and put her down on the floor to play. I headed back to the kitchen and as I rounded the corner, I noticed orange flames reflecting off our bread box. “That’s weird,” I thought. “I don’t remember lighting a candle.” (I’m BRILLIANT, people, just brilliant.) I looked to my right where our stove is and that’s when I saw that the oven mitts were on fire. I mean, flaming, on fire, I can’t touch them or I’ll have to head to the hospital on fire. So I did what one normally does in this type of situation. I screamed. And then I turned off the burner that in my sheer stupidity NEVER TURNED OFF while I panicked about what to do.
Levi came racing in after he heard me scream and so I shrieked at him to get out of the kitchen, whereupon he noticed the flaming oven mitts and burst into tears because, “Momma, why are my BIRTHDAY MUFFINS on fire?!?!?!” (Though the muffins were just fine and nowhere near the stove.)
You might be thinking to yourself, “Surely Erin grabbed a fire extinguisher and put that puppy out.” Well, you would be wrong. Erin’s brain doesn’t work that way (remember the dead raccoon story? oh wait. I didn’t tell you about that, did I? crap.) Erin grabbed a dry dish cloth to pick up the flaming oven mitts and threw them in the sink and doused them with cold water, thus creating a smoky, smoky mess in the house and charring the best oven mitts ever to the point of oblivion. People, this whole episode from when I threw the oven mitts on top of the still-on burner to when I discovered the fire was all of a single minute. I kid you not.
When Matt came home, the first thing he was greeted with was, “Momma? Are you going to tell Daddy about your mistake now?” Awesome. Absolutely awesome.
But the frittata was delicious.
Blessings and love,