This evening I was rushing to get dinner in the oven. I had forgotten to put the chicken in the crockpot that morning and as a result was still, at 6:00 at night, trying to get it to thaw out so I could slop some salsa on it and put it in the oven. I needed to do this as quickly as possible because the cleaning woman, yes I said cleaning woman...we'll get back to that in a minute, was quickly approaching the kitchen and I needed to get out of her way, so she could clean up the slopped salsa, along with the rest of the kitchen.
You see, Clara's first birthday party is Saturday, and in true-to-Joy-form, my house was a disaster of epic proportions. And I mean it was funky. So, in an act of grace or desperation or both, my dear husband splurged to have the housekeepers he hired while I was pregnant come and clean before the party. And clean they did. For 5 hours they scrubbed, and polished and defunkified my home while I ran errands...doing my best to hide out from these women who were seeing the worst of me.
And lest you think that my domestic ineptitude is the peak of my worst-mama-ever claims today, there is more...
While I was trying to get the chicken in the oven, Ben started wailing. Well I, never being much for jumping each time my kids get hurt, looked at Brandon, sitting on the couch, and raised my eyebrows because he had a view of Ben. He looked back at me and said lazily, "You need to get Ben."
So I, up to my wrists in salsa and chicken, went off on Brandon about why he couldn't get Ben and he argued back at me, all the while Ben is still wailing in the background. Then Cleonice, our cleaning women, comes in crying and carrying Ben who's finger had apparently been shut in the front door (by her) the whole time Brandon and I were arguing.
Although I am not sure how this is posible, I STILL, was not grasping the entire situation (in part, I guess, because of Cleonice only speaking portugese) I took Ben from her, and continued to lecture Brandon about how he could leave Ben with his finger in the door, between saying, "It's fine Cleonice, it's fine!" while she was crying. Finally, in an act of desperation she takes Ben's hand, puts his finger in my face, to show me it's turning blue, and runs off to get ice.
Oh.
He's really hurt.
Crap.
So Ben spent the rest of the evening wimpering in my lap (and yes, of course I felt awful!) with frozen peas on his finger, after I comforted Cleonice, gave her a big tip fat and sent her on her way. I will never be able to show my face to her again. Sigh.
Loss of a darn good cleaning woman too.
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2 comments:
You used peas! I knew I loved you for good reason. I award you the following:
1 WMP for still frozen chicken at dinner hour.
1 WMP for not having the manse fully prepped and ready for Clara's party a full week prior to the event.
1 Spoiled Wife Point [SWP] for hubby getting the cleaning lady (he deserves a treat!)
-1 WMP for caving and doing yourself what you told your teenager to do
-1 SWP for shaming yourself out of future visits from the cleaning lady
1 WMP for comforting the hurt child while coated in spiced tomatoes and salmonella.
-1 WMP for losing your cleaning lady over a life event your three year old will not remember, even if it eventually leads to the loss of the tip of one of his fingers.
Despite deductions, you come out one WMP ahead! Good job!
Okay Karen. Your response to my post was much funnier than my post. You rock.
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