I burned macaroni and cheese this morning. There are numerous things wrong with this statement. One, what was I doing cooking mac n' cheese in the morning? Two, who burns mac n' cheese? To be completely transparent, I didn't just burn mac n' cheese. I burned the microwaveable, so-called "easy' mac n' cheese. The foolproof stuff. The stuff they make for moms who haven't held a pot since the neolithic era. Yeah, that. I burned that.
Let's take this from the top. Last night was chaos. There were a thousand things that needed to get done of which I accomplished a solid 12%. Dinner, bath, laundry, dog walking, dog washing, gift wrapping and house cleaning were all items screaming for my attention. I managed to check most of these items off of my to-do list with just enough energy to wash my face, brush my teeth and hit the pillow.
At 1:37 a.m. I heard an all too familiar sound. My son, standing at full attention in his crib, screaming his lungs out. Round one. I crawled out of bed, in the dark, tripped over the dog, stubbed my toe on the doorframe, held him, rocked him, and somehow managed to get him to fall asleep again.
Round two. 3:42 a.m., the cycle repeats except this time I tripped over the cat.
By the time the alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. I was barely awake enough to hit the snooze alarm and not awake enough to get up again until 7:00 a.m. Dammitt. Late!
And we're off. Out of bed. Make the coffee. Let the dog out. Shower? Not the hair - no time! Throw the hair up. Find an outfit unscathed by baby vomit. Pour the coffee. Let the dog in. Wake the baby, who by the way refuses to budge now that it's a decent human hour. Change the baby. Dress the baby. Nurse the baby. Burp the baby. Baby pukes. Dress the baby again. Baby poops. Change the baby again. Then came the boom. My husband poses the question, "What did you pack for his lunch today?"
I quickly recap last night's events and realize that in the midst of everything I forgot to prepare my son's lunch. Dammitt. Major mommy fail. What to do? I can't send him to school with the same peas, pasta and ranch dressing that he DID EAT the day before. Surely his teachers would see that as lazy parenting. I'd have to come up with something new.
I rummaged through the pantry looking for anything I bought that was quick and remotely healthy. Then I see it. Instant mac n' cheese. Okay, not healthiest option, I admit. But definitely the fastest. In a haze of motherly guilt I rip the top off, add the water, stir in the cheese powder and microwave on high for 3:30. Or so I thought. Fifteen minutes after letting the dog back out, feeding the cats, letting the dog back in, scraping the ice off my car and changing my son into yet ANOTHER outfit I realize that the microwave is still on and counting down from 33:00.
There are many smells I wish to avoid but scalded microwaveable easy mac has got to be one of my least favorites. I remove the miniature tub from the treacherous appliance and toss it in the trash. Back to square one. I seriously consider reverting back to the days of Plum packets and Gerber Crunchies, but the wrath of Ms. Lucy is enough to talk me out of it. There was only one solution. Peas and pasta, but with one significant difference, tomato sauce.
I added two heaping spoonfuls of tomato sauce to the reserve peas and pasta and called it a day. I threw some diced pears, a hummus dip, goldfish crackers and animal crackers into his elephant lunchbox and we headed out into the cold to bid farewell to this beast of a week.
TGIF. Tomorrow we go to IHOP.