Call me…

March 2, 2010 § 5 Comments

Image Credit: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gw74eml2a3o/SOTTTc11a6I/AAAAAAAAAvw/uzelRrR1gZY/s1600-h/housewife_1_.jpg

…spastic.  No really, do, it’s okay.

This year my prominent New Year’s resolution was to be less spastic.  A strange goal?  Not really.  Let’s just say I got fed up with near-accidents in the kitchen because I was trying to maneuver around our all too small space, refusing to slow down my pace and attempting to saute, chop, mince, bake, balance and look like a lovely, calm housewife all the while.  Too often my “calm” demeanor quickly turned to screams and shrieks as food fell on the floor, sauce splattered on me, and pans clanked loudly and messily about.

So you see, all I wanted for the new year was to achieve some kind of sweet serenity in my persona that would eliminate the chaos and ragamuffin appearance that had so marked my days.

Well, it was but a week into January when my resolution flopped.  By 7:30 a.m., I had managed to spill coffee on myself, trip going up the stairs, and wear my slippers to work.

Tonight I was reminded again of the disparity between the calm persona I desire and my actual frantic, tired state – while cooking a nice dinner of grilled sausage, peppers, onions, hoagie rolls and salad with mango, kiwi, red onion, and balsamic (sorry, I had to insert what we ate ’cause it was delicious), I managed to get the pans to just the right temperature that they were smoking. Naturally, we had our (loud) stovetop fan and air conditioner on to prevent our smoke alarm from going off.  In the midst of this, Alex was asking me questions about the budget – “Babe, what did you buy for $5.11 at Michael’s on February 12?” Then the hoagie rolls (in the toaster) started burning.

Now, still, please admire that I was handling all of this in a fairly calm manner (save, perhaps, a slightly flustered tone of voice in answering Alex’s poorly timed budget inquiries). That is, I was handling all of this well until I went to butter the burned hoagie, and dropped a giant pat of butter on the floor.  Then, I screamed.

Oops.

Anyways, I related this to my mom, and after laughing she decided I was wrongfully withholding these stories from the world. So that is why I have shared it here, in my little blog space. Depending on the frequency of these moments (we can only hope…), there may be a new series starting here : Chronicles of a Spastic Housewife.  Enjoy.

Advertisements

§ 5 Responses to Call me…

  • Madelyn says:

    Okay . . . but what did you buy at Michaels for 5 dollars and 11 cents? I must know.

    As for the other stuff . . . I think you should just try cooking easier things like I do . . . mac n cheese, rice, microwave popcorn . . . this will ensure less spasticity.

  • Morielle says:

    well, at least you are living up to your claim that “life with Jane is not plain” 😉 haha….I can just see you now though….

  • Rachel says:

    This is my new favorite series. I am the spastic housewife’s biggest fan.

  • Rondi Lauterbach says:

    I am president of the fan club, oh spastic daughter of mine, and, might I add, good job following in my footsteps…

  • Kat says:

    You remind me of Julie from “Julie and Julia.”

    Also, slippers to work is the best part of all the parts.

    End scene?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Call me… at life with jane is not plain.

meta

%d bloggers like this: