Grace Under Fire

I don't imagine that these kinds of things only happen to me, but in the moment it can certainly feel like it.

Last night I got home from work at 11:30pm. After winding down a little I went down to bed only to hear Luke crying in the monitor. Luke was sick. Sickness has been the word of the winter. Mark and I have never had so many colds or felt so exhausted from the constant battling of illnesses. Sparing you the details, both Mark and I were up late calming, cleaning, changing, and consoling the baby. Today was a mess of Motrin, Ginger Ale, and Popsicles. It's not yet 9:00pm, and I think I would be smart to go to bed now in anticipation for another crazy night.

Today was also the fixing of my hair faux pas. In the middle of my toner drying I get a call from Mark. Mark started a fire. A grease fire. His exact words, "Mallory, what do you do when vegetable oil is on fire on the stove?" My reaction, "Um, there's a fire in the kitchen? Why are you calling me?" Although I wasn't a witness, the picture painted in my mind is quite amusing. Mark had a frying pan of oil on the stove to heat. He forgot about it until the smoke detectors went off. He found the kitchen in a fog of white smoke. Not knowing what to do with a grease fire (let's say it together "baking soda! baking soda! baking soda!), he grabbed the frying pan, ran outside (in his pajamas, bare feet, and t-shirt), and threw the pan into a pile of snow. The frying pan is still out in the snow. The frying pan is on the naughty bench. I think this is the funniest story I've ever heard. Even though my head hurts from the fumes hours later, I'm still laughing thinking it's hilarious.

I'd say it's been a pretty exciting day ;)