Then came Wednesday. Work went great (only 3-10 minor panic attacks about 7th grade math no biggie) , and I even got to leave 15 minutes early which meant a less-hurried trip at Costco. I was feeling good that I could get a decent amount of groceries this time and that I didn't have to be to our Relief Society dinner until 6:00pm. I even had thoughts of reading in the cozy...foolish girl.
So remember that cream pie I mentioned the other day? Well, I didn't have time to make it Monday or Tuesday (I suppose if I had stayed up late I could have done it but I'm trying to be responsible and proactive about getting enough sleep, also we don't have a Marie Calendars near us) so I switched my plan to Pecan Pie instead. The thing is, Pecan Pie takes like an hour and 10 minutes to bake so I had to scramble to get it made and in the oven BEFORE putting my Costco goodies away. This was no small thing for me because I like things to be clean and orderly before I begin another project. I felt positively Rainmanesque about it..."must put the food away, definitely put food away now, have to do it now, d-d-definitely now".
Also causing me distress were the dishes in the sink. I know that most normal people have dishes in their sink a good portion of the time, but I do not! I can't stand them in there unless they're soaking, and even then those should only be in the left side of the sink so that the disposal side is free and clear. (I'm not crazy, that's perfectly logical and good planning right?)
But today there was a pan soaking on the left side which was leftover from last night (and which really should have been washed by Randy (aka The House Husband) this morning. And to make matters worse there was a pan in the right side of the sink (supposedly soaking) with utensils in it and a few cups as well. (You see, when people in this house see dishes in the sink they think they can put their dishes there too, when really they should be loading them into the dishwasher.) Aargh!
So all of this clutter was driving me crazy as I was hurrying to make my pecan pie. Plus Whitney was next to me making "ants on a log" for the first time and managed to get her hands and the jar covered in peanut butter. I also discovered that the left side of the sink was clogged by rice kernels that had fallen in there during my hasty measuring for the previous night's dinner. You know what happens to rice kernels when they get wet? They blow up! I tried sticking a knife down there to help them along, but that didn't work. I can't believe how stupid I was to have measured the rice over that side of the sink AND then to have thought they would rinse down easily. Add to this the chaos (which bugs me on a good day) of our very loud washing machine spinning out a load (which shakes the whole house and makes hearing anything else almost impossible) at the same time, and I was thinking "see, if I wasn't gone all day at work then this laundry would be done and these dishes would be done and the pie would be made and I would be happily helping Whitney...but noooooo!"
At this point I was ready to start screaming expletives. Really and truly that's what I wanted to do more than anything else. I wanted to give in to my frustrations, because at times like these it's like tapping into a cumulative grudge. Every frustration I've got is bubbling under the surface ready to come out ala Vesuvius. I was so close, seriously like an 1/8 of an lava emotion away from losing it.
But since I'm all about "The Power" these days and since my kids were nearby, I reigned it in and talked myself through it. I had a truly grown-up moment where I saw what I needed to do, saw what I was working with and recognized that giving into those frustrations was beneath me (Holy Epiphany Batman!) because if I'm all about being positive and Christ-like until things get ugly then what am I really about? At least I think that's what I realized while standing next to the oven with gooey pie batter all over me, and really no one will be more surprised by this than me (or except maybe Randy, or Michelle, or Amie or my family) but I really and truly didn't freak out. I baked the pie, put the groceries away, washed the dishes, poured Drano down the sink, and then remembered to breathe. Not too shabby.
Or is it? Randy came home while I was finishing this up and the first thing I said to him was, "You've got to do the dishes in the morning. If this set-up is going to work you have to do the morning shift better." And as I recounted this incident to him (which seemed comical as I wrote it) I got all teary and emotional. Maybe I am crazy or maybe I'm only 3 days into my new normal and am having growing pains...the jury is out.
**What would you have done?
At which point would you have lost it?
Do you remember the Enjoli ad?
Are you fine until you talk about something
and then end up being surprised by the emotions?**
Do you remember the Enjoli ad?
Are you fine until you talk about something
and then end up being surprised by the emotions?**
Comment Window Tidbit: Dang it, I accidentally set this post to publish at 8:09PM instead of AM, so now instead of having a bunch of comments to read I got a whole lot a nothin.
Also, the only reason I thought to take any pictures was because Whitney showed me her peanut-butter covered hands. So I took a picture of those and then snapped the other two.
Also, the only reason I thought to take any pictures was because Whitney showed me her peanut-butter covered hands. So I took a picture of those and then snapped the other two.
