The Bossy Oven

I almost kicked my oven today. Which is really saying something because I love my oven. But today it's little pre-heat beep was the last straw on my very frayed nerves.

Anywaaaaay, so how was your day? I know I just jumped right in with a "you won't believe the day I had" kind of rant and it's not that I'm not interested in how things are going in your life, it's just that this blog only goes one way and I can't hear your response.

So why did my oven almost get a dent in it's pretty door? Well, today I felt like a worn out Stretch Armstrong doll. Do you remember those? The rubbery muscle man that you could pull and pull and it would oh so easily shrink back to normal? At least until you tied the arms around a door knob and then ran around the corner and down the stairs and then couldn't figure out why the arms refused to shrink anymore. Yep, that was me today.

My mom (also known as the Mom Rescue Squad) was arriving today for a visit and I really wanted to make sure the house didn't look like a rookie homeschooler lived here. I wanted to look all pulled together and calm and collected. So in order to achieve that level of tranquility I had to run around like a mad woman to get the grocery shopping done, vacuum the crushed Goldfish crackers off the floor, corral the run away toys and generally turn into a cleaning tornado.

And the whole time Ella and Jack were asking for one thing after another and by the time I started to pre-heat the oven, I was a ticking time bomb of stretched out mommy-ness. So when the oven innocently beeped to let me know it had reached the desired temperature, I decided it sounded like it was just one more thing wanting my attention and bossing me around. So I seriously considered kicking it. But I refrained. Barely. Does that still get me maturity points?

And now the Mom Rescue Squad has arrived so for the next few days I can have adult conversation with an actual person and not just a Facebook page...and the oven will be safe.