Okay, I realize that this post should be labeled Happy Father's Day because that is the special occasion today (and I was all ready for it too), but sometimes the best laid plans go astray. I'll let you take a little look at my morning.
Like many of you, I planned to let my husband sleep in a bit, so I took the kids and we decided to make Daddy some breakfast in bed. We bought a cute tray to deliver the meal, and June drew a special picture for the event. I planned on muffins, an omelet, maybe some bacon and of course juice. Everything was going according to plan. The girls helped me make the muffins, they were in the oven and I had 18 minutes to cook an omelet and get the tray ready before the muffins were out. June was coloring, the other girls were watching a movie, and all was in order. I whipped up a batch of Crystal Light and was about to get the eggs out when I thought that maybe I should take my prenatal vitamin for the day. If only I could go back and take that thought out of my head. But no, it was too late. I opened the cupboard and the pills and vitamins were stacked precariously. So much so, that trying to grab one bottle started an avalanche that also knocked the cooking spray out of the cupboard. I will never truly know what happened next unless I had a camera in slow motion, but I can tell you the basic effect. Something (I think the spray) hit the recently filled pitcher of juice and the glass handle broke off completely. The very red (likely to stain anything it touches) juice, saw a convenient exit from the pitcher and took it immediately with the help of gravity. I was utterly soaked in juice before I even realized what had happened. The stove was flooded, along with the floor, counters, oven, and basically anything nearby before I picked up the broken pitcher and put it in the sink. My guess is 6 of the 8 cups of liquid made it out of the pitcher before I stepped in. From the waist down, I was literally bright red from liquid and I stood there in shock. I think I may have screamed with the initial break because June came downstairs and just stared at the huge mess I had created. I told her to get her Dad, but I thought better of it and asked her to go for the dish towels instead. I spent the next fifteen or so minutes not making breakfast for Dad, but cleaning every inch of pink I could find. OxyClean saved my counters which I was sure were going to be stained forever, and amazingly a quick batch of laundry saved my dish towels after the cleanup. Only a few little rags came out pink; the rest including my white underwear came out unscathed.
It certainly was not the start to the morning that I was expecting. I also managed to get flustered enough that I cooked the bacon on high and burned it, filling the house with smoke, but let me tell you, that was minor compared to the juice incident. Breakfast did eventually arrive at Dad's bed and he thought it was wonderful. He is the best Dad I know, so he deserves a little tender love and care, and he even slept through the whole juice mess. I'm surprised my scream didn't wake him up, but in the end I was glad that I tackled my own problem without much help (Ivory was there throwing every wash cloth she could find at me, but that was LESS helpful).
We do have plans this evening for some more Father's Day festivities and I surely hope that I can pull them off better than breakfast in bed.
Here is a picture of the pitcher (my favorite...sob) and the only washcloth to not escape the pink staining.