Burnt Toast.

Toast

I was going to post an article that I had been working on, one that is positive and makes you feel like you are on the episode of Oprah where she is giving away cars and a bunch of other expensive crap to be coveted, however I decided to let myself get sidetracked on something else. Let’s just call this something else “burnt toast syndrome”.

That is basically me upon waking up at 6 am this morning.

Everyone has burnt a piece of toast. You get so excited to have a warm, soft yet crispy vessel for butter, jam or another delightful arousing smear of choice. But then by some horrific realignment of the stars you leave the toast in too long. It comes out hard, black and bitter. All you can do is manage to scrape some of the black tar off with a butter knife as you stand over the garbage can. Hoping to mask the unpleasant smoking flavor, you apply all the goodness you had initially devised in an extra fat layer. To your dismay the piece of toast still sucks, you take two bites and throw it out. $#$%$%^!!!!

I am that toast. I tried to scrape myself together and apply some fat layers but I still have bits and pieces that are hard and still seem to be smoking from the ears.

What gives?? I’ll tell you. Three kids with colds plus 30 degree temps. Combined, these factors lead to missed school, whiny kids with cabin fever and one burnt out momma.

I’m pretty sure hallucinating came into the picture at one point after Thursday happened. I had almost made it through the week. The kids were on the mend. Researching what to do with the minions of the H-Clan during the winter season and pinning like a mad woman, I came across kinetic sand (also known as moon sand or cloud sand). Due to the expensive price tag on the actual kinetic sand I decided to go the DIY route first to test it out among my three spawns of life. I found the right recipe, bought the ingredients and went to work while the twins napped. I filled a large plastic tub with the stuff and some sand toys and placed an old plastic table-cloth under it to catch any sand that was planning a getaway. I felt prepared and accomplished. Then the twosome gruesome awoke. Within 2 minutes of introducing my creation there was an all out war amongst the Halperin children. Moon sand was flying in handfuls across the kitchen, was in eyes, hair and mouths. At this point is when I would say I forgot the toast.

“GARAGE!!!” I yelled at the moon sand covered children standing in my kitchen. I picked up the tub and half threw, half placed it on the cement ground of the garage. I dressed my three moon sand warriors in their winter coats, hats and shoes. Off they went to finish their battle. With the heat cranked and the garage door opened, I stood in the kitchen finishing dishes and engaging what was left of my mind in an episode of The Chew. Laughter and squeals of delight billowed through the entry way filling the kitchen with the happiness of my little ones. As I spied in, the three were covered from head to toe in a soft white glow running from one side of the garage to the other stopping every so often to grab another handful of moon sand to add to their ammunition. “Whatever works,” I thought to myself.

As I was busying myself in the kitchen I noticed a new noise had joined the laughter and squealing. It sounded like the crunching of leaves. As I peeked in to see what was the source of the noise and I was faced with the scene of three dusty tiny human beings throwing snack size chip bags up into the air and smashing them under their feet. Looks like the gang sniffed out daddy’s lunch stash. “OKAY BACK IN THE HOUSE!!!” As if by cue each Halperin spawn picked up a bag of Fritos and scurried up the stairs into the kitchen. As I shut the door and turned into the kitchen each of my babies had their hands stuffed in yellow foil bags as they grabbed handfuls of Fritos and stuffed them greedily into their tiny little mouths sucking them down like vacuums. “Whatever works,” I thought.

I was able to strip them of their winter attire as they held onto their greasy foil bags with a death grip. As I was filling the washer with the moon sand encased outerwear I heard more squealing and laughter. I had a feeling that something couldn’t be that funny that was associated with something they should be doing. I walked into the sitting room and there were the twins standing next to the glass coffee table upon where they had each poured out their bags of Fritos and were now smashing them as they smacked their tiny hands against the glass again, again AND AGAIN.

BURNT TOAST. This is when the toaster began to smoke and I slowly went from soft buttery toast to burning black bitterness.

So here I am today. I made it through the rest of Thursday saved by my yoga night class. I made it through Friday, when the house was destroyed and a Christmas present or two may have been given out of bribery.

My kids are being oddly sweet and obedient today. Maybe they smell the burning reek of their triumphant over mommy or maybe the addition of my shining night in armor (daddy) has silenced their craziness. Whatever it is I hope it sticks around through the weekend so I can get ready for Monday when I pop in a new piece of toast hoping it comes out soft and buttery by the following Friday at the end of the week.

 

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