I was talking to my Mom on the phone last night. We had been trading messages on iMessage and I had found it a bit…confusing. She had wanted to know if I had gotten her message on my answering machine and when I replied back to her, she would answer back “No.” At first I thought perhaps she was misunderstanding me, but then it happened again. Could it be that Boo had taken over her iPod? Hopelessly confused, I called her. Turns out she had meant to type “np” for no problem. File this one under “tales of auto-correct.”
Somewhere along the way she remarks that I sound tired and I chuckled because it had just dawned on me how tired I was. Would you believe that all I had done was make dinner for the bottomless pits that masquerade as my children?
I have, at one time or another, described making dinner for the kids as something like a marathon, but I was wrong. It’s not at all like running a marathon – it’s like being on a runaway train or maybe being chased by one. I can try to get all of my ingredients prepped as best I can, but seeing as I’m also trying to simultaneously keep three children from hurting each other too terribly much, my best laid plans often go awry.
Remember puppy? He seemed a bit depressed last night because the husband has hardly been home and they didn’t go for their daily constitutional together.
Reader, can I let you in on a little secret? I’m not a dog person. Shhh….yes, I know. I like dogs well enough, especially if they’re not jumping up and down like a yo-yo on a string, but not that much. I like them even more if they belong to someone else and I can just visit. No, I’m definitely a cat person. We regard each other with indifference, they do their business in the litter box, one or another is a tad on the grouchy side, we prefer napping to racing around the backyard like a maniac, and periodically throughout the day, the cats and I end up in the vicinity of each other – usually because of a mutual need to share warmth.
Sadly, dogs are not like this.
Of course, I knew this having had a dog growing up, but I don’t think I really appreciated the difference. There’s really only so much dog entertainment I can provide before I reach my limit. They’re just too needy for my taste.
Anyway, I felt guilty because the dog was giving me those sad puppy eyes. The husband had gotten a couple of extra panels for the ex-pen and I thought I’d put them across the entrance to the kitchen so that the dog could hang out with me while I made dinner. Reader, my kitchen is not that big.
And I have three kids.
And a puppy.
I found myself in the kitchen with the kids and the dog feeding off one another’s boundless amount of energy while also trying to make the requested pancakes and sausage. I was multi-tasking like crazy trying to keep everyone happy and making sure nothing burned while also listening to All Things Considered. The level of noise and chaos was just about at critical mass. So many questions (Can I help? When will dinner be ready? I’m hungry, can I have some cereal?) and yet there’s a point at which I was thinking that in spite of all this, my plan was working. The dog’s having a blast, no one had hit or punched or bitten anyone else, and you know, dinner’s getting closer to completion.
The dog went outside (for the second time in thirty minutes), the kids got sent into the living room, the sausage was burnt, and I had to clean up the floor. No good deed goes unpunished.