Actually. Now that I think about it, it could have also been inspired by a Facebook marketplace post selling workout CDs and weights, and an Ab Roller, all for the handy dandy price of thirty dollars. So, after work one day last week, I went and pulled forty dollars out of the ATM, and then had to break a twenty, and bought licorice in order to do so. Baby steps and stuff.
I waited for half an hour in the decided upon spot, for a very nice older woman to show up with the goods. She cheerfully handed it all over, informed me the ab roller was "brand new" because she had bought two of them, thinking her daughter would like one too, but, apparently her daughter didn't. Thus, I was essentially stealing this thing.
Happily I drove home, chewing on licorice, and thinking about how skinny I was going to be. I hauled everything out of my van, and the Bearded Man began to put the ab roller together. Only to find that the "Brand New Ab Roller" was missing several parts and some screws.
Seriously. If you can't trust nice old ladies in a parking lot, who the heck can you trust??
Anyhow. The other workout kit included three weighted bars that can also screw together and become one long weighted bar. Last night, I saw it under one of the beds in the boys' bedroom, as, it apparently makes a fabulous ninja stick.
Since I was going to be all healthy and stuff though, I decided to try the whole "Food Prep" thing. Also, trying to find time to make lunch in the morning is this side of impossible (for me, anyhow) and, unless I find the energy to do it before bed, it really isn't going to happen. As far as I can tell, half the people I know do this food prep thing, and my social media is constantly filled with pictures of the resulting piles of pre made breakfasts, lunches, and perfection, while I am frantically chucking a can of soup and a banana into my lunch bag every morning.
So, here were are; How we got to Food Prep.
Last night, I watched George head up to bed, looking studious in his reading glasses with a book tucked under his arm. The fact that he headed to bed on his own with no arguing, prompting, meltdowns or excuses should have been suspicious, but, I took the opportunity and ran with it. Right into the kitchen. Whipping out a package of chicken, red wine vinegar, and rosemary olive oil made by my newest sister in law's dad - seriously. He grew rosemary for months, for the express purpose of making rosemary infused olive oil for her Bridal Shower. I love the stuff, and, also, he sets the whole parenting bar pretty high for the rest of us...
I began chopping and cooking the chicken, digging out the new (BPA FREE!) containers I had recently bought for this whole food prep thing, and then yelling at my kids because more than half of them are already missing, and how the hell does this happen when there has been exactly NO occasion to use them for the love of the Good Lord and all His little children????
I began cooking all sorts of other things, too, to make entire meals. Using two cast iron skillets, a food processor, three chopping boards, most of my knives, cell phone recipes and a cookbook, I finally had made exactly five lunches for this week.
Here's the part where I could have smugly taken pictures and posted them on all my social media with fourteen hashtags. But, there wasn't a clean surface anywhere in my kitchen to put those containers, so that I could take pictures even if I had the energy. I stepped out for two minutes for something, and, walking back in, realized the full extent of the mess. Every surface was covered in something. Tomato seeds over here, Tzatziki sauce all over there. A dripping food processor, cutting boards. Knives, spoons. The kitchen was a disaster. Piling all the lunches for the week up, I was shocked to find that this entire exhausting mess had reaped five fairly small containers of food. It was a Thanksgiving meal prep for twenty people sized mess, for five small containers.
Is it just me??? I don't know how many Facebook pictures I have seen, of made ahead meals, taken in sparkling kitchens. How did this even happen?? All I can surmise is: I need a kitchen for cooking, and a kitchen for taking pictures of cooking, or, I need to cook, then clean, then haul it all back out of the refrigerator and take pictures, to make it look effortless. That's really the only solution I can come up with.
The only good thing I can say here is:
- The chaos of the kitchen drowned out Joe's howls as George tormented him. And vice versa.
- My lunches will be fabulous this week
- I must have burned at least 47 pounds last night.
After the kitchen was scrubbed down, I looked around and announced to Bearded Man, who had finally deemed it safe to walk in "I am starving."
"There's hot dogs left over from dinner, if you want some."
"Okay."
All that healthy food prep goodness - followed by a hot dog before bed. Gotta start someplace.
Yesterday was also Week 3 of Sunday School. There was nearly a Sunday School Teacher Smack Down.
I went to church with a migraine totally brewing. George decided to sing every possible singing part in an opera voice, complete with falsetto on top of his lungs, and, it just went downhill from there. I find that the worse George behaves, the madder I get at Bearded Man for sleeping through as much of church as he possibly can. Which really, in retrospect, makes me the worst person of the entire scenario, because, you shouldn't go to church and get mad at other people in church, especially if you are married to them. Either way, it's a weekly thing. The kids decided years ago that he probably sleeps through church because he's old enough to have lived through the entire bible anyhow. All of this is old news to him, as far as they are concerned.
After church, comes Sunday School. So, me and my pounding head wandered down to my classroom to get ready. Weekly Sunday School begins with music. During music, I noticed one of my new students standing near her teacher from last year, looking distressed. I am absolutely familiar with this kid, and completely aware that she doesn't handle change well. So, watching her with last year's teacher, I knew we were in for a treat. Last year's teacher would bring lots of snacks, donuts, cookies, cakes, candy, hot chocolate, juice and had a great big prize box, so, every week, the kids were able to pick out a new toy. She is sweet and nice and beautiful and has the best shoe collection I have ever seen. She is so nice.
Eventually, I watched in resignation as my student and last years' teacher made their way over to me.
"She's not feeling well...." began last years' teacher
"She will be okay. It's a fairly common thing for her."
"Well, I thought maybe I could take her outside with my class and get some fresh air."
"No, I don't think that's a good idea. She really needs to be present in her own class. I think if we start this, she is going to want to be in your class every week."
"Well, I think I should take her out of this room, and maybe see if her mother is here."
'She will be okay, and music is almost over."
"I think she should maybe go upstairs and sit by herself and collect herself for awhile."
"I really think she will be okay. She can't be upstairs alone anyhow. It's policy." I said through gritted teeth.
"I really should just let her be with me for awhile. She's not feeling well, and has anxiety, and I can take her outside and help her." She responded, also through gritted teeth.
"Seriously. If we start allowing this now, she is always going to want to be with you. She needs to be in class. She isn't going to get used to it, if we haul her up to her mother, or wander around outside, or sit in your room eating donuts every week. She will be just fine. I promise."
"Well, she's very upset, and, I think I should really step in here and help her. She should be allowed to be with me for a bit..."
"No. I really don't think so." I gritted, my head pounding. "Listen. I will go see if her mother is here, but, she is NOT getting out of Sunday School. She's been doing this for years - I remember she did this a lot in the grade before yours. Once she settles down, she's fine. She just needs to realize that she will be okay - which she will five minutes into class, and she will be just fine."
The mother was not in the church still, so, I hauled the child into my room, told her - nicely - I am not a complete jerk - that she could sit and have a bottle of water and collect herself, but, that, she really needed to be present in class, and that I promised it would all be just fine, and that she wasn't going to be able to hang with her old class. She nodded, accepted water, and whipped out her cell phone. Not sure who she was trying to reach, but, I left her there and went back to the music room to collect the rest of my class.
"So, she's with her mother?" nodded the other teacher.
"No. Her mother isn't here."
"oh. So, she's upstairs resting?"
"No. She is in my room drinking water."
"But, she's going to be outside at some point, to get fresh air, right?"
"Yes. As soon as class ends and her mother picks her up."
"I really think I should take her. I at least feel empathy for her... I had anxiety when I was a kid, too."
"I feel empathy too, but, we can't let this happen, because then she will want it every week. She was fine the first week of Sunday school."
"Yes, but you weren't here last week, and Jasin let her stay with me."
OMG. So. At this point, I was definitely the monster here. With a mental note to chat with Bearded Man about this after Sunday School, I collected the rest of my kids and headed into my room.
Only twenty more classes to go. *packs Sunday School Survival Flask* And this is why I am going to hell this week.
No comments:
Post a Comment