Wednesday, May 7, 2008

rice rocket

Usually the term "rice rocket" is a bit derogatory and refers to the little scooters that are so common in Asia. However, "rice rocket" has a new meaning to me and (surprise, surprise) it has to do with Olive.
Monday night I was making dinner (crazy, I know). Nothing too daring, just some penne pasta with a sauce made up of all the remaining ingredients in my fridge, along with a little salad. I was happily cooking away and chatting with my mom on the phone. Olive has gotten to where she wants to sit at the big dining room table now and said she wanted some rice (we had leftovers in the fridge). So I followed Dennis' idea and put the bowl of unheated rice and a spoon in front of her at the table and let her go to town. I was sure to push the chair up close to the table and put a placemat under her (great precautions, or so I thought...). From the kitchen, there is a pass-through area that allows me to see her in the dining room, but really just her head and shoulders, not the whole table. So, I'm cooking away thinking, "wow, this is great, I should always put her at the table while I'm cooking - it keeps her busy and I can keep an eye on her. Why didn't I think of this sooner?" I hear a few giggles from the dining room and see that she has spooned just a little of the rice onto the tupperware lid, but no big deal, it wasn't much, and will be super easy to clean. Then I see that she appears to be trying to feed the dog. Well, it didn't look so bad. So I finished cooking, very proud and giving myself lots of pats on the back, then I go into the dining room and discover that a rice rocket has exploded. And I mean EXPLODED. There was rice all over the floor, the chair, the table, EVERYWHERE. Oh my goodness, I didn't even know there was that much rice in the bowl!!!! So I leave everything in the kitchen and quickly scurry to get the vacuum while the dog is slurping furiously (but it's too much, even for him). Meanwhile, Olive tramples in it and gets it on her feet and through the living room. So I rush to vacuum and get this all cleaned up before Dennis comes home (oh, did I also mention that I was in a time crunch b/c we had a babysitter coming so we could go attend a parent meeting at Olive's preschool for next year?) I finally get all vacuumed up, but as I'm finishing, Dennis walks in and when he reaches the kitchen, he says, "what a mess" and I scowl at him and say, "I don't want to hear it". Then I rush to get a bite of pasta (skip the salad) and change clothes and put Olive down for bed, just in time for the babysitter to pull up and us to leave the house just in time to make the meeting. Aaahhhh...just another day in the life of a frantic mom. I wonder if anyone else is having these crazy moments or if they're all as put-together as they seem? Maybe at least I can provide humor for someone else. These stories are funny...if they're not happening to you!

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