WHY there are STICKS in my Macaroni????

Seriously, sometimes I wonder how I got this mom job. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, but there are certain nights when I wonder how I am going to get through. Unfortunately, tonight was one of those nights.

It wasn't all the kids. Truth be told, I am the problem a lot of the times. I was at home with the kids about dinner time and decided to make the ever faithful mac -n -cheese. How can you go wrong? Well, just as I add the macaroni to the boiling water, B started crying desperately to be held. Since she had spilled water all over herself (and floor), I had to change her. Along the way I broke up about 67 fights between the boys. Someone was kicking someone or jumping on someone else. Nobody was bleeding, thank goodness, so got back to handling the distraught princess and returned to my macaroni.

I walk into the kitchen only to find J melting a plastic fork on the burner. So in addition to the water on the floor from B, my kitchen smelled like a piece of plastic had melted on the bottom of the dishwasher (which, incidentally, actually smelled like dead fish) As I was approaching the stove, R told me that J had added THREE cups of oil to the over boiled noodles. How did he have time, I thought? I thought he was kicking someone? Anyway, in his effort to try to help and keep the noodles from boiling over, he added ALOT of oil (some of it olive oil some of it veggie oil) He was trying to do what he has seen me do -- its just that I only add a teaspoon or so. So then, I am stirring the macaroni with my strangely melted spoon (hmmm) and am sure I see something floating in the cloudy, bubbly water. I keep looking and sure enough a STICK -- as in a TREE BRANCH!!!! Gross! So, fishing it out, I decide to ignore it. I am NOT going to make more food. This was enough of a challenge. Then, just as I am calming down... ANOTHER BRANCH!

I was so close to loosing it. Thank goodness for good neighbors. I was so angry and about to let the children see mom's wrath, but thought to call my good friend next door instead. She listened to me rant and rave, helped me laugh and I was able to speak calmly to my sweet children -- as we ATE the macaroni they all helped make.