I had something else in mind to write about today, but considering how today went, I’ve changed my mind and will have to reschedule today’s planned post for some other time.
Who say’s today’s stay at home Dads can not multitask ? I can multitask, no problem at all!
Early in the day I had pulled some kind of nerve or muscle in my back and neck, making it just about impossible for me to turn my head at all. How did that happen ? This is apparently what happens when a 48 year old Dad tries to carry his 45 pound child up the stairs for the ten thousandth and most likely final time. Why wasn’t Mr. C just going upstairs on his own, you ask ? Oh, who knows at this point, but for whatever reason there I was carrying him when I felt the ZING in my back, indicating that for at least the rest of the day I would be in some pain and unable to move my head or upper back. That was at about 10:00 am.
After that I stepped on and broke a glass (plastic, but still, very surprising and annoying). Stepped on a glass, what was a glass doing on the floor?, you may ask. Well, I suppose you ask that if you never had a 4 year old in your house. Glasses can end up anywhere. Under the table, in the bathroom, who knows. It’s always surprising where I find them considering that Mr. C does not drink anything outside of the kitchen or dining room. Seems as though sometimes he just walks off with an empty glass. I usually see them first before stepping on them, but considering that I could not bend my head to look down, I stepped directly on it. As I stepped on it, it immediately shot off across the room hitting the back door, breaking into three pieces. I found two of the pieces. I hope I don’t step on the third one before I see it.
Then I had the bright idea of taking Mr. C out for a ride on his tricycle. Are you out of your mind? you may say. You can’t move, you have a 300 pound invisible weightlifter placing increasingly heavier barbells on your head and back, and what do you do, you go out with a 4 year old on a tricycle ?
Let’s get out of the house, I thought. Maybe It’ll help to get some fresh air. Exercise. Get away from the confines of the house and the risk of stepping on random Legos and who knows what. So off we go, Mr. C pedaling away, me wincing in pain next to him. We went about four blocks before Mr. C decided that he had had enough of the pedaling for one day, it was time for him to go to the bathroom. Right now. Luckily, I did think to bring my paint roller extension pole . That’s a long pole that I use to push Mr. C’s tricycle along if he gets hung up on some kind of obstacle. So as he walked back with me, I pushed the tricycle along with the pole. Though I did have to carry the trike for the final few feet, with increasing intensity of ZINGS up the back with each step, since Mr. C had to run for the house for the last few feet. OK, not so bad overall, just added a bit to the overall pain in the neck though.
Speaking of steeping on things, let’s talk about stepping in something now. Have you ever stepped in cat vomit ? No ? It’s not fun.
How about cleaning up cat vomit when you can’t bend down very well. That’s not much fun either.
Ok, whew 6:00pm. made it through the day. Now let’s cook dinner.
The plan was to barbecue chicken for dinner. If I barbecue I usually will have Mr. C play in the back yard a few feet away from the grill. But today I decided that I couldn’t really cook and watch Mr. C at the same time. So I decided to cook outside, and have Mr. C play in the dining room, just a few feet from where I have the BBQ outside.
So just as I put the chicken on the grill, I hear something inside. What was that ? Was it just the sizzle of the chicken, or did Mr. C say something ? I should check. I run inside. Nope, nothing is wrong, he’s just singing a song. OK, let’s go back outside to check on the chicken.
Outside the chicken had been engulfed in a blazing inferno of intense flames. I could not approach the barbecue much more than six feet away. I thought that a neighbor might call the Fire Department since a large black cloud was forming over our house.
Here’s a photo I took once the flames had died down from nuclear intensity to volcano intensity.
Seems as though in my rush to get dinner cooked, and haste to see if anything was wrong with Mr. C, I forgot to brush off the excess marinade from the chicken. Olive oil is apparently very flammable.
I had to then decide if I should remove the chicken, or assume that the flames would soon die down, leaving only a slight charred outside surface.
The flames did not die down very much at all. In fact, it seemed that they just plateaued at volcano heat level as more of the oil dripped off and hit the fire. As the black cloud over the house grew and grew, and the flames grew higher and higher, the chicken itself caught fire.
I decided to remove the chicken from the barbecue at that point. Risking serious burns to hands and immovable head, I speared each piece carefully and took our dinner inside.
Was it cajun style, charred on the outside, sealing in delicious BBQ’d chicken ? Or inedible chunks of burnt bone and blackened meat ?
We had cereal for dinner.
And now I’m going to go lie down.