Yesterday was…among those days. It started out fine, alarm buzzing to wake me up, gaining Kalina off to college, acquiring the younger kids off to institution. After breakfast I made a decision to rearvariety our kitchen cupboards. I was so sick of going on a “treasure” hunt and also risking life and limb simply to find the dishes I essential to cook. Just one of the many kind of dangers of having children “help” with the dishes. I determined a tiny KonMari* was in order. So, I took every little thing out the cupboards, cleaned them out and then:
* did a pair of loads of laundry
* read Apollo some books
* tidied up the bathroom
* waburned some dishes
* took care of some paper work
Um, yeah, carry out you view a pattern here? I rerelocated whatever from my kitchen cupboards, then did 235 other odd tasks approximately the residence. Jobs that had actually nothing to execute with my kitchen.
You are watching: Why are my pants cold and wet
At some allude, I got earlier to my kitchen, recruited Tilly (who is house on spring break) and acquired 90% of the items put ameans in their brand-new homes.
We had actually lunch and also then it was time to head right into town to provide three pies Enoch had actually bakedfor my parents’ tiny group. First we essential to switch Apollo’s auto seat to the auto, because in a moment of performance, I determined we would certainly drop off Enoch and said pies, then go have Tilly take her driver’s test. In order to attain this, we necessary to number out just how to balance 3 pies in a car containing four people: 1 perchild was the driver and also one perkid and also antsy four-year old. I’m pretty certain I did logic problems just favor this when I remained in school… We settled on: one pie on the floor in a box, one pie on Enoch’s lap and also one pie on mine.
Why are my pants cold and also wet?
That pie? On my lap? Without a box? Not a good concept, we soon found. Just as we pulled out of the drivemeans my cell phone rang and I recognized the phone number from Seattle Children’s Hospital (yes, pathetically, I recognize their number). Just secs later on my lap began to feel cold and also wet. I was puzzled (and additionally scribblingnotes about Mordecai’s’ surgery times on a scrap of paper). I glanced dvery own to check out thick, sticky apple pie juice putting into my crotch. Oh yes, it did. At first, given that we were short on time, I thought I would certainly just live with an apple pie scented crotch. There are worse things in the civilization, am I right? I have no idea just how I though that was going to work I motioned to Tilly to store driving while I preserved scribbling notes about surgical treatment times, check in, and clear liquids. I motioned frantically to Enoch who got hold of a sweatshirt (sorry, Judah) to soak up the puddle (currently the size of Lake Superior) that had actually created in my crotch. By the time my conversation was over, I realized my entire crotch and thigh area were extended. As in soaked. I told Tilly to rotate approximately and home we went.
Just as we pulled ago right into the driveway my phone rang aget. This time it was a frifinish returning a semi-urgent speak to. I had actually to take it. Into the residence I ran, chatting on the phone, removing my pants and also washing my loins with a warm towel. As soon as that was done, I ran out to the auto, grabbed a pie (which Enoch had so kindly placed in a box) and also headed out aobtain. Just at the optimal of the drivemethod I felt a cold, wet spot on my thigh. Oh yes, it was apple pie juice.
This time the drip was little and I extended the hole in the box with my finger. Dvery own the highmethod we drove, all the means to my paleas, with my holding the sweet liquid in package with my finger, just prefer the legendary Dutch boy.
Not my best day.
On the bright side:
* the pies were baked and delivered
* Tilly passed her driver’s test!!!
* the children loved dinner (chicken, pasta and salad)
* I got to spend a lovely evening with my teens at youth group.
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* No I’ve never before check out the book. Nor have the right to I realistically ask myself if each item in my home “sparks joy” in me. I live through 11 other human being. Enough sassist.