Everyone that knows me, knows to never use the word cook in the same sentence when mentioning my name. Drew does the cooking {and very well} in our household, and I do the cleanup.
This is just how it is and it works for us.
I am quite the baker though.
Tonight, while Drew and Belle were at lacrosse practice, Lily and I spent some quality time in the kitchen whipping up a celebratory loaf of pumpkin bread for Belle, who went to an audition today at Citi Field for the opportunity to sing the National Anthem {more about that another time}, while at the same time, I decided to cook dinner.
It was only pasta people. Nothing fancy, just pasta. And this is what happened.
After the water had come to a boil, I added some oil and then turned to grab the sea salt. As I poured it into the boiling pot of water...
Oh wait, let me first tell you what happened last week when I was again, trying to make pasta. As the water began to boil it started spilling so violently out of the sides of the pot it snuffed out the flame.
When I turned it back on, no flame.
The girls and I were in the kitchen and I smelled gas leaking from the stove. I opened the window really quickly and when Drew came home the girls were screaming, "MOMMY ALMOST BLEW UP THE HOUSE."
Total exxxxxageration.
So back to tonight, just when the water started boiling Lily was so cute and said. "Mommy, should I open the window?" Like the natural order of things when Mommy is making dinner is when the water starts boiling, someone should run for the window.
So feeling ridiculously confident because I had so many things going at once and it felt so natural, I replied, "no, baby, Mommy totally has this one."
And sure enough just as I said that I poured the sea salt into the water and this happened.
The cap came flying off and the ENTIRE bottle of sea salt fell into the boiling water.
Seriously, I CAN NOT cook.
Actually, forget the use of the word cooking, because that would imply that I can make it past boiling water, because clearly I can not.
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