Please Tell Me You Can Relate

originally in Abilene Families

We each have been given different gifts. Some of you will cure diseases. Some of you turn rooms into places of respite and relaxation. Some of you mold young minds into lifetime learners. My gift? I am the lowest common denominator in every situation. It’s a gift, really.

Some times you read this column and are called to treat your fellow man, perhaps your own family, with kindness and respect. Other times, when I am feeling confessional, you walk away thinking, “Get OUT! You do that, too? You are an even bigger klutz/ slacker/ more disorganized than me!” You’re welcome.

In keeping with this spirit, I would like to offer you a peek into a recent day at this house.  While it wasn’t a typical day, it’s rife with things that typically happen because that’s how I roll.

For this particular evening my calendar showed that Dad had a meeting, one child would be at a school activity, and one child at church activity after we picked up school schedule days before school started. For me, the thought of no one home to cook for was reason enough to celebrate. I planned to dig peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon and call it good. Don’t judge.

Text message from Dad, “Good news! Meeting’s been canceled! I’ll be home in time for dinner!” Oh. Well. Guess he’ll want his peanut butter on the bread.

I discussed the church activity. “Oh, no,” child responded. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to that.” Sigh. These people really know how to kill a peanut butter buzz.

In 2 hours I went from zero home for dinner to most home for dinner. I should probably do something. I shook some seasoning on chicken and threw it in the oven to bake. (FYI: this turned into a yummy, easy meal. I’ll see if I can share the recipe!)

As I rushed to wash raw chicken ook off my hands before we left to pick up school schedule, my liquid soap pump decided now was the time to exact revenge. I watched as a glob of soap hurtled into my eye. Alrighty then.

After 15 minutes of saline rinsing, contact rinsing, and make-up reapplying we were ready to go. Again. Only now it looked as if I had been smacked in my red, swollen, teary eye. Not the first impression I was trying to make at the new school.

No one seemed concerned with my appearance and when we got home it no longer felt like I was pouring kerosene into my eye. All in all, a fairly successful evening, if a bit of a rough start.

Squirting soap into my eye prior to a meeting at a new school turned out not to be the highlight of the week. That came the next night when I gathered all of my supplies to hem the band uniform (last minute, of course) and realized that the sewing machine power cord didn’t make the move to the new house in the same orderly fashion as my sewing machine.

You don’t want to hear the gnashing of teeth that transpired. All is well. I have made you feel better about your homemaking abilities, and you can go about using your gifts beautifying, healing, and teaching. I’ll be rinsing the soap out of my eye.


Jamie Kocur said...

I so eat peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. I am so not judging.

Sarah S. said...

Yay! Jamie's in! :-) You get me. Glad to know I'm not alone! :-)

Roxanne Langley said...

My freshman and sophomore roommate got all FANCY with her peanut butter eating. . .she poured M&Ms into the jar and jug THEM out with the spoon. It was her jar and her spoon and no mom around to contradict. AND it was the precursor to peanut butter M&Ms. This article is where you shine, my friend.

stephanie said...

"Oh. Well. Guess he’ll want his peanut butter on the bread. " Hahahahh! *wiping tear* Oh, man, that's awesome!

Sarah S. said...

I remember -- Allison? Was that her name? That would have been dessert. Yum.

Sarah S. said...

:-) I know, right? You would have probably made yourself a big salad or something. Not me!

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