Posts Tagged ‘O discordia!’

Must be Sunday.

August 24, 2009

If it’s a Sunday and I have the kids, I can usually be sure of one thing: the day will end with a meltdown, either theirs or mine (or both). It should have put me on my guard that we got through this entire weekend without a single meltdown. Nope, it was an enjoyable weekend all the way around. We bought a baby blanket for me to start stitching for one of my friends, we went to a baby shower on Saturday and the girls were angels, my IO joined us for dinner on Saturday and the girls weren’t shy for even a minute…nope, it was a perfect weekend.

Until I came up with the brilliant idea to let them make their own pizza for dinner last night.

I guess it could have been much worse. No one lost an eye, there isn’t pizza sauce on the ceiling, and no one fell backwards off the chairs and rendered themselves unconscious. No, the assembling of the pizza went very well, indeed. It was idiot mom who melted the back of her hand whilst scooting the pizza out of the oven and onto a plate. Of course, the hand that was holding the plate of pizza was the hand that bumped into the 450 degree oven door, and of course I had the presence of mind not to drop the ceramic plate onto the tiled floor. Nope, I had to wait until I put the pizza down on the counter before I could go run my hand under cold water. Even that didn’t help. I couldn’t find my burn gel and I couldn’t leave my screaming hand out of cold water long enough to search properly. All of which was going on very quietly so the girls wouldn’t be afraid. Finally I slathered on some aloe and a gauze pad and wrapped my hand with tape. When my hand didn’t quit screaming, I strongly considered packing up the kids and rushing off to Target to get some maximum pain relief burn gel. But it was tax-free weekend here and I didn’t want to brave the crowds…and I still had to bathe the girls in preparation for the first day of school…and I had to pack Gracie’s lunch. So I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and slapped it on there. As long as my hand was numb, the shiny, waxy line that was melted into the skin back of my hand didn’t hurt. That made lunch packing and hair washing prettttty interesting. Oh well, I guess it’s better than one of the girls’ hands melting into the oven door.

The girls did finally pick up on my distress. Maybe right around the time I started whimpering and begging for sympathy. But that’s okay. They were cheered up by the fact that I let them wear their pajamas backwards – you would have thought it was a bank holiday around here when I said yes to that odd request. I wonder if wearing pajamas backwards has mysterious pain-relieving tendencies, too?