It never fails. After a drought of blog topics and scratching the bottom of the barrel to come up with something as soon as I hit the "publish" button, great stories and great ideas flood in. To avoid posting twice in one day and seeming pathetic - like I have nothing better to do - I "save them for another day" (which means I will forget or they don't seem nearly as brilliant or funny later). Well, here's to throwing pathetic in the wind and here's post #2 for today thanks to an almost-more-than-I-can-handle-time-on-my-hands rotation at work.
* * Fireworks * *
On the menu tonight was BBQ Chicken Pizza. It's not too difficult, but two boys screaming at your feet in a tiny kitchen makes boiling water difficult. The oven was preheating, and I started cooking the chicken all the while ignoring the chaos beneath my knees and praying that a hot piece of chicken didn't fly out of the pan and onto a forehead below making for another awkward trip for me, a doctor, to the ER.
"Fireworks, Mommy," Owen reported as he looked in the oven. I figured he saw the red hot coils glowing as the oven gathered its heat, so I just patted his fuzzy head and continued to shield Griffin's from the chicken above. Owen moved along with his business. By then it was time to bake the crust, so I opened the oven door. Once my eyes stopped burning from the gray cloud of smoke that puffed out, I saw what Owen had noticed minutes before. Fireworks! The coil on the bottom of the oven was red, hot, glowing, and popping just like a July 4th sparkler.
I slammed the door closed to smother the fire (okay, so it wasn't exactly a fire but humor me), and pushed every button to try to remember how to shut the oven off. With it off, I peaked through the hazy window (there was no way I was going to open that door... didn't you see Backdraft). It was still glowing and when I saw a second spark I used my super-human strength to move and unplug it from the wall. This time, the redness cooled and the oven again when black. Slowly, I opened the door again; it was quiet and fireworks free.
It's even more funny because this is the 3rd oven we've had in our house since we moved just over a year ago. Two of them have been gifts, and in all sincerity, we really appreciate the generosity! But, maybe this is a sign that baking is not my spiritual gift after all.
* * Stuck * *
I'll keep this one short, because I do have to get up for clinic tomorrow.
Because we have the two cutest boys there ever were, it is difficult to not go in and just stare at them while they sleep. Therefore, it's our habit to go in and hover over their beds and smile at least once before we go to bed.
Tonight, when I got home from Bible Study we did the routine. Owen needed to be moved from the floor back to his bed, but he just rolled over, grabbed Oof-Oof, and went back to sleep in the most adorable way possible. Then we opened Griffin's door. He is not a peaceful sleeper. With the sound of the door opening he flips and flops. Sometimes he'll even sit up, all while totally asleep. Tonight, he started to flip and flop, but he seemed a little restricted. As I walked around his crib I saw his chunky thigh poking between the bars. I expected him to pull it back in as he rolled around, but it didn't budge. When I went to gently slide it back through, I realized it was really really stuck. It took both Jason and I a few minutes to figure out how to manipulate his well insulated and now tomato red leg back into the crib where it belonged.
Needless to say, he didn't sleep through that.
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