So, our extended family was to come over for a 'Holiday Dinner'. But, here's the catch: My wife got called away for the day OF the party which left me to take care of the kids (which meant feeding them throughout the day and getting them dressed), clean the house AND prepare the potato salad! Personally, I think that is just TOO much to expect out of someone. For the record, I survived and none of the children died in the process.
My cooking skills have progressed significantly but I wouldn't say I'm a pro...well, I CAN cook a pretty mean grilled cheese sandwich.
First thing I did was call my mother-in-law. According to her children, husband and just about everyone else, 'The World's BEST' potato salad.
THE KICKER (?!): not 3 days earlier she was just in town, but wasn't able to make it for us before she left.
She asks, "How many potatos have you used?"
"6, or 7 or 8...pretty big ones too," I answer.
She rattles off 'about' how much of different ingredients I will need to make the salad and ends with this instruction:
"Then, you add just enough mustard...until it looks right."
Now, ladies, men don't usually evaluate the 'look' of their foods, they just eat it. I didn't ask for clarification, but noted, that the 'look' I was looking for, was a TOTAL UNKNOWN!
The time came to skin them. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO PEEL POTATOES JUST OUT OF BOILING WATER?!
I had just started peeling the potatoes which were over cooked despite my best efforts to not let them get too cooked. My hands were covered in mashed potato and potato skins when the phone rang. I rinsed my hands, dried them (barely) and reached for the phone. They hung up.
I go back to the potatoes. My youngest decides to get into the storage container drawer and empty it by throwing everything all over the kitchen. I let him.
He slips on one of the lids he had thrown and falls. Starts crying. I rinse my hands, dry them, and then love on him for a moment.
Back to the potatoes.
He's hungry. The other boys are out playing at their friends (thank goodness).
I rinse my hands and dry them and then hand the youngest some bread with avocado (hey, he started eating it).
Back to the potatoes.
He decides to start throwing pieces of it.
Don't rinse hands, go take bread away. Put baby back on floor. Give him a drink of water.
Back to potatoes.
Everything is quiet. I turn and look. Baby is playing with the computer left on the couch.
Rinse hands, dry them on my pants, run to living room and take computer and put it up on the table.
"These toys are for you," I say in a very gentle and loving way.
Back to the potatoes.
I hear baby making noises consistent with sliding things around on the floor...things like wooden car tracks or wooden toys.
Then, I turn to see and this is what I found!
I snapped this picture just in time because he had reached for the Christmas cookie jar and grabbed Santa's hand, lifting the lid off, just as I gently cradled his hand in mine and helped him back to the floor.
A NEW ERA IN CHILD CARE BEGAN TODAY!
