Like it stinks to the high heavens right now.
It didn't stink 15 minutes ago.
15 minutes ago it smelled delectable.
It was a dreamy mixture of orange zest, hazelnut, chocolate and sugary love.
Macy and I were spending some domestic time together cooking up
a Pinterest find of No Bake Nutella Cookies.
We had all of the ingredients, it was like kismet.
We were giggling, laughing, measuring.
The fog was rolling in, it was the quintessential raining day at home.
I was feeling all warm and maternal...all that was missing were our 1950's aprons
and some kickin' red lipstick.
I covet these Ozzie and Harriet moments.
The part came in the recipe where I needed to add the TOASTED coconut flakes.
I forgot to toast the coconut.
No worries, let's just parchment this cookie sheet up, and we're good to go!
I start getting anxious.
My OCD personality starts kicking in.
The coconut is NOT toasting evenly.
The edges are browning wayyyy too fast!
So I did.
I changed the cosmos.
I lifted the pan closer to the heating elements.
It's possible I don't need to pluck my eyebrows for a while now.
"FIRE!!!!" Macy screams.
"MOOOOM!!! Fire! Fire! Fire! (shreeeeek) FIRE!!!" she continues.
I lift the pan out....towards my child no less.
Freak that I've lifted flaming pan towards Macy, so I quickly pull it away from
her which fans the flames even higher.
I throw the pan into the sink.
Macy runs for her life to her bedroom in a full-fledged freak-out.
Zachary and Steve sprint to the kitchen to try and assist.
This is how bad things happen fast.
Lots of shrieks.
I decide that the pan is the problem and lift it out of the sink with my bare hands.
The pan goes crashing to the ground as I am now shrieking too.
Steve is standing there watching this circus act in complete befuddlement.
Zachary runs to grab the fire extinguisher.
Lovely that the 5 year old in the house is the only one with some common sense
I finally gather my wits and turn on the water to douse the impeding flames.
The fog that was rolling in with the rain now looks as though its entered my home.
Back to reality.
I am not Harriet.
I burn parchment paper.
Macy, with tears rolling down her face
sheepishly returns to the kitchen, clearly still in wonderment of
any future protection that her mother might possibly be able to render.
I hug her.
I start cracking up.
Like a fit of laughter, should-probably-consider-crossing-my-legs-so-I-don't-pee-
You're picturing it.
I know you are.
Macy is certain at this point that I am an unfit mother.
"You're LAUGHING!!" she accuses.
What else can I do?
I hug her harder.
"I'm sorry," I confess.
She starts to giggle a little too.
That's just saved me thousands in her future therapy.
I burn parchment paper.
And now my house STINKS.
The good news?
I still had extra coconut to re-toast and the cookies kick butt.
And in about 20 more minutes, they will be forever part of mine.
i am and I usually just burn the garlic bread.