Spoiled Milk

Today did was not one of my finest starts.

I was on day 5 of what felt like the plague mixed with day 7 of an allergic reaction/infection–no desire to do anything / running a fever / head felt like it could explode. A wanted breakfast, eggs and bacon, STAT. Out of bed I went, leaving Greg behind, and started on the meal. He came downstairs a few minutes later, which I appreciated, but I didn’t realize he wasn’t fully awake and had started day one of the plague himself. Everything went downhill from there.

6 eggs were left, so I was going to make one big batch and split it between the kids and the husband. When I went to add soy milk to the scrambles, I made it known I would be adding milk (figuring this would give Greg the hint to yell at me if he didn’t want the milk added). Milk goes in the pan and the eggs start to fluff-i-fy. ‘lil Man is screaming because he wants BACON 5 MINUTES AGO. Figuring his cup would soothe him, milk goes in the cup. That’s when crap.hit.the.fan.

Apparently, the milk had gone bad. Never in my life have a drank soy milk–I have a slight allergy to soy, so go figure my kids are allergic to / have milk sensitivities–so I have no clue what bad soy milk tastes or smells like. I looked at the pan of fluffy eggs almost ready to eat and lost.my.mind. No clue why the milk wasn’t thrown out at first notice of it going bad or why I was led to believe it being in the fridge equaled ok to put in the eggs but not in the cups, my Irish was up and I was not a happy Mama.

Commence pounding of heels, smacking the pan with a spoon, and cutting off the stove–those eggs, my poor baby girl’s one special morning wish needed to go in the trash. (Dare I mention there are starving kids who live on our street???) I stamped my way up to the bedroom after giving the kids bacon, bread, and good milk and wished the husband a good day.

Was I out of line? Sure! Did I know it? Yes. Did I care? Aw, heck no.

Not until I heard A tell her Daddy I was mean and that she was ok without the eggs. At that point, I got all kinds of caring and decided to step in and start to clean house. Mail that needed thrown out, couponed groceries that needed put in the pantry, blog review items that needed put together, blankets that needed folded. I was on a mission to prove I am a super mom, working while sick and tired. Not some mean mom that was going to let my daughter slip a one-up to my husband after I was working so hard to have a good day with my kids. Nope. I was going to prove my worth.

All that got me was an outlet for blowing off my steam, a workout, and a good sweat. The house was visually clean within 30 minutes and I wasn’t sure what to do next. So I sat on the couch, thought about my actions and realized how crazy I really was. All this “wasted” energy spent on spoiled milk. How old was I?!??!

Well, if you do the calculations, my ‘lil stampede would have been equal to a time out with an extra minute added for getting off the step while in trouble. Guess that evens it out. Greg and I had a conversation following my rampage and I realized that sometimes I try too hard to live several different lives all in one body and it gets the best of me.

As moms, sometimes we need to blow off that steam. I just need to try to find a different outlet instead of showing my butt in front of my kids. Bless their hearts, both came up and gave me sweet hugs and kisses. A even told me, “sweetie, we’ll go to the ‘iggle and get more eggs tomorrow”.

Every ‘lil thing’s…gonna be alright.