Shaking off the day.

I blame this evening's mass failure on Rachael Ray. If she wasn't such a lying bish, I would have been fine.

It all started with my incessant need to "try new things." I get out the good ol' Rachael Ray "Yum-o" family cookbook, because right? It's a family cookbook. Probably something a mom could make, with little ones underfoot. So I decide to make pork chops and she makes it sound ohhhhh so easy.

Step one: mash chops until they are 1/4" thick. Ok, fine. Put Ruby down for a nap, mash mash, Ruby wakes up. Put Ruby in Ergo and continue to mash, while Ruby cries and thrashes to get out. Mash harder. Simon is slamming the mouse into the keyboard, Ruby cries and thrashes to get out. Mash harder. Simon is slamming the mouse into the keyboard, Ruby cries and thrashes to get out and I explode the paprika everywhere. Mash harder.
Now, I have paper thin pork chops. Okay, fine.

Step two: Dip chops in flour/paprika mixture, egg wash, bread crumbs. Decide that the job will get done faster without a squirmy baby strapped to my chest, place hysterical baby on the floor. Dip, dip, dip, pan. Ignore baby. Ignore toddler jamming car keys in the cat's eyes. Dip, dip, dip, pan. Ok.

Step three: Wait four minutes, then flip. Pick up now beet red, hysterical baby, shoosh and soothe. After four minutes, put baby back down. Ignore further crying.

Step four: Consider what would happen if I just ran away, right now. Retract thought, burn dinner, think said thought again.



Annnyway, I could go on and on but suffice it to say... I needed a drink. If Rachael Ray wasn't such a lying ho, none of this would have happened. Thus, it is her fault.



And alas, my pecking has woken up the baby.