Trust me, that is not an exaggeration. You may have noticed that I have been quiet this week. The truth is I have just been swamped. After waking up New Year’s Day feeling puffy and slow, I decided I wanted to train to run the Broad Street Run this year. In my travels, I learned that I could start a team to raise money for the American Cancer Society. For me it was perfect: Broad Street plus a great cause–what better motivator could I need?
In the 21 days since I made my decision, my running team is now 35 people strong and we have already raised over $12,000. This amazing set of accomplishments comes at a price: I am freaking busy…as if I wasn’t before. So, in an effort to have my kids actually recognize me, I decided to try to include them in our efforts. This weekend, Chris was away (whole separate post on that.) So, I decided to see if Maisy wanted to help me. I asked timidly “Hey sweetie, how about you invite some friends over to make muffins that I can sell in the office for the team?”
What was that? Oh. My. God. She actually just smiled at me.
In a desperate move to keep her from changing her disposition to the snarly, irritated kid that I force myself to love despite disliking, I said yes to every request. Three friends? Sure. Sunday right before dinner? Sure. Chocolate chocolate chip? Sure. $50 in ingredients, two hours at Wegmans—sure sure sure.
We got home and the girls all got to work. Hours later, I had just washed literally every bowl, spatula and mixing utensil in my kitchen. I had wiped down every surface, door knob and handle. How they got chocolate batter on the bathroom counter UPSTAIRS I will never know. Anyway, kitchen sparkling, I pulled the trays of muffins out of the oven–they looked and smelled GREAT.
Sadly, my disabilty took hold at that moment. Since I was only blessed with two functioning hands, I asked Maisy to set the muffins on the counter to cool while I helped Hadley write her story (yes, she can’t read but she wanted, right then and there, to write a story.)
It wasn’t until I heard the eery silence of our normally rambunctious dog that I thought to look up.
Tragedy #1: What was left of the muffins was now on the kitchen floor in a tangled mess of tins, papers, crumbs and dog saliva.
Tragedy #2: Lucy is like Chris. She knows something will make her sick and yet she eats it and eats it and eats it. Only, she has the decency to keep her moaning and belching to herself. And, she does not tie up the bathroom for hours while complaining about how “she loves onions but they just don’t love her…” I digress.
What Lucy does instead is puke. And puke. And puke. All over my newly scrubbed kitchen.
So, after happily enagaging my cranky daughter and her friends, scrubbing their pots, pans, and muffin batter from every nook and cranny upstairs and down, helping my five year old spell “Once upon a time” no less than 17 times, I proceeded to clean up dog puke.
And I was not gracious about it.
Haddie: “Mom, it’s not nice to say you wish Lucy would have died from eating that much chocolate. I think I am going to have to tell Dad.”
So now, my ungrateful 5 year old is going to snitch me out to my husband, who has managed to annoy me about his eating habits despite being 1000 miles away at the time.
And, I have exactly 2 lousy muffins to sell. Unless, they fetch $500 each, that was not a very good investment of my time, effort, and sanity.