Kyle was fortunate enough to have two days off in a row this week and they happened to be Friday and Saturday! I can’t tell you how thrilled we were to have a weekend day off. Kyle generally likes to rest on his first day off and then get things done around the house on his second day off. Saturday started off like any other day. Except that Madilyn woke up at 7:30 which is extremely strange for her. I usually get until at least 9 before she’s up and ready for the day. Kyle woke up and watched the Sports Center reel about 67 times while I made breakfast. He then went out to mow the lawn while I prettied myself up. After putting makeup on and getting the kids ready for our outing, we went outside to pile into the van and I hear:
WHIRRR. WHIRRR. WHIRRR. WHIRRR.
and see a very frustrated-looking husband standing over our brand new lawn mower. Brand new. He had just filled it with gas and thought maybe he had flooded it so he said he was going to let it sit for a while and edge the lawn. He then realized that he was out of string for our weed whacker. Awesome.
When I returned from WalMart, the yard was still uncut. As I was bringing the groceries inside the house, Kyle regaled me with his irritation at our week-old Lawn Machine. This is the 3rd lawnmower we’ve purchased from Home Depot that didn’t work. He loaded the lawn mower, full of gas mind you, into the van and drove off. When he got home, he put his new Toro lawnmower together then came inside, realizing that he had used the last of the gas in the Lawn Machine. And naturally, when he went to exchange the broken lawnmower for one that works, he had forgotten to take the gas can to get more gas. So off again, he went.
When he returned, I asked him to start the charcoal grill to heat it up for our DELICIOUS marinated chicken and veggie skewers. He did that and then mowed the lawn with no more problems. As he was putting his lawn equipment away, he stepped on our extension cord and broke a prong off. He stormed through the door, grabbed a beer, the plate of chicken, and the vegetables and went outside where he proceeded to drink away his sorrows and grill me some meat. As he got the last vegetable skewer on the grill, his flame went out.
I laughed as Kyle removed the chicken and veggies from the over-full grill and then proceeded to add charcoal and lighter fluid to the ashes in the bottom and reload the grill. He was stomping around in the heat cursing at the grill and me, because my veggie skewers had cherry tomatoes at the very top (so they’d look pretty, DUH!) and they kept falling off onto the grill.
While Kyle played Grill Master, I played Betty Crocker and tried my hand at my very first Bundt cake. I had a new silicone Bundt pan that I was excited to try so I made up a fun recipe for just that reason. As I put the cake into the oven, I realized that the silicone pan was slumping a little bit. It concerned me for about a millisecond and then I went on my way to change a dirty diaper or some other housewife shizness.
Kyle came in to get a platter to put the finished food on. I was lying in bed nursing Grady when I hear Kyle screaming, “SUMMER! YOUR CAKE THING IS MELTING! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” I yell back, “What’s going ON?!” and get no response. For the record: This is probably my BIGGEST irritation with Kyle. When he flips the freak out and I ask him what’s up, he NEEEVVVVVEERRRRR answers me. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it. So I yell back, “WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?!”
So I pop Grady off of my breast and run into the kitchen, my heart running the Indy 500, to find a puddle of gooey cake batter seeping out from under the oven and Kyle standing there with his head in his hands, eyes about to pop out of his head. He begins taking all of the pans out of the drawer under the oven and throwing them in the sink. The cake batter just keeps coming so I shoo him out of the way so that I can take it out and put it on a cake pan, which I should have done in the first place.
He went some-freaking-where and when he came back, he found me photographing the campfire that had spontaneously combusted in our oven. As a fire fighter’s daughter, I knew that if we opened the oven, it would add oxygen to the flame and it would roar. So I stood there waiting for the fire to suffocate and then he did it. He reached for the oven door. I don’t know WHAT he was going to do to the flame but apparently he wanted to burn the house down so I started screaming. His hand made it to the oven-door handle but luckily my screams kept him from applying any force.
At this point we were both dying laughing. Kyle sat on the floor and grunted towards the refrigerator, which I knew meant he wanted another Fosters. I obliged, but not without a little teasing and we resumed dinner preparations. Once dinner was done, I took the babies to take baths and Kyle started on the kitchen.
I heard him scream yet again and when I went to check on the damage, I found Kyle on the floor, rubbing his foot. He had stepped on an outlet cover that, an hour prior, he had asked Styles to pick up.
We decided at that point that it was just best to go to bed and hope that Sunday came quickly…without another incident.