The Monster Mash has nothing on me. I can take the most mundane task and turn it into a freakazoid of an accident in no time flat. It becomes a matronly dance all its own.
Take for example, my attempt to make nice and healthy lunches for DH and DS. As I opened up the refrigerator door, a jar of mayonnaise hurled itself upon my ankle- the one still black and blue from the encounter with the corner of the bedpost the night before.
Lucky for me the container while full, was plastic, making the pain less than that of a glass container. At least this is what I am telling myself as I take comfort in not having to pick up globules of glass in addition trying to ignore a throbbing appendage.
After retrieving said mayonnaise jar from the floor I proceed to take out the turkey meat and the carrot sticks and edamame and cheese. I then lovingly cobble together sandwiches made with fiber-enriched wheat bread whose packaging assures me that it provides 100 percent of the daily recommendation of fiber and vitamins. Nothing is too good for my boys.
I glance down at the aforementioned ankle which now resembles a doorknob in a motley collection of green and purple hues. Quite lovely actually. For an injured ankle.
I proceed to take the lunch pails- insulated rectangles of orange and grey- drab in comparison to my ankle I must admit- and add ice packs to the lunches stopping to think that maybe I should take an extra ice pack out of the freezer for my ankle. But then realize I have no time to be pampering a self-induced injury. I have lunches to prepare, beds to make, laundry to do as well as get myself to work on time.
I add a small bag of Pringles chips to each lunch which now contains a decrusted sandwich complete with a slight smattering of a mustard mayo spread and a healthy helping of turkey meat and a protein rich slice of cheese, cut in two (triangle shaped versus the more ho hum rectangle version). I add a bottle of water to each along with a bag of veggies composed of edamame and mini carrots.
I also provide a plastic (recycled no less) spoon and a container of apple sauce (organic) to round out the lunch made with TLC for each of the men in my life.
I deliver said lunches to appropriate pick up stations: for DS- I deliver his to his backpack. To DH, I deliver his to the front door next to his shoes, where he can easily pick it up on his way out the door.
Having done my domestic duty I then begin the rest of my day scurrying about. Off to work, grocery store, dry cleaners, post office, the usual.
The day goes on and before I know it, the evening meal is upon us. DS, DH and I sit down at the table and give thanks for the meal and chat about the day. My DS, with his big brown eyes and truly engaging smile looks over at me and says, “Mom, I know you work really hard on giving me a nice healthy balanced lunch (if he only knew…) but really, do you think you could up the ante on the junk food? The kids at school all have these amazing unhealthy lunches, and well, mine is just so healthy…”
The broccoli spear on which I was munching lodged itself in my throat at this very moment of his utterances….I will have to finish this story later. 911 may be needed this time….