Wednesday, October 14, 2015

For. Real.

As today came to a close, my mind started replaying some of the craziness that took place under our roof today:

15 fall festival fish found belly up in several of my kitchen bowls that are on our back patio, serving as temporary housing for the poor, unlucky goldfish. I found myself scooping them out, throwing them into the bushes and consolidating the breathing fish while two suspicious children looked over my shoulder to make sure I didn't throw out any live ones.

3 rounds of the cooking competition  "Chopped" were played out in my kitchen. I had three kids cooking pancakes, then egg-concoctions and finally the dessert round (which closely resembled the pancake round because all they had to work with was Bisquick. The result: frosted pancakes.).

 And then there was the pigeon. Yes, the pigeon. My oldest son noticed a pigeon hanging around camp today and thought it was unusual. He thought the bird looked lost and disorientated and ended up catching it and bringing it inside the house. Turns out it was a banded racing homing pigeon that took a detour on his way to pigeon racing glory. I am not making this up. We looked up the number on our feathered friend's ankle band and found out that he belonged to a fancier named Oviedo who didn't speak English. So we were on our own with the pooping bird.

We won't mention the throw-up that landed next to a bed in the night due to too much spinning on rides at the fair yesterday.

Between the 75 dishes used in the season premiere of "Chopped", the mixing bowls designated as fish tanks and the bowls appointed for feeding the pigeon, I tackled more dishes than an elementary school cafeteria lady today. And we won't even talk about the vomit covered and bird-poop infused towels that I laundered today.

Meanwhile, my oldest daughter missed her flight to NYC and spent her afternoon waiting to get on a stand-by flight. Of course, I could do nothing but pray for her as I scrubbed my way out of my kitchen to start on baths.

This is for real. My For Real life. Never predictable, never sane, never dull. But always real. Really crazy, really messy, really exhausting and really worth it.

For Real.

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