I’ve been a bit scatters lately. It comes with the territory of being the stereotypical sleep-deprived parent. I hate being such a cliche, but freaking hell this parenting shit makes you tired all the time.
I’ve googled the search term “google”, I’ve put yoghurt back in the freezer instead of the fridge, I’ve forgotten my keys and had to break in through the front window of my house. That kind of thing.
Tonight I had my husband’s dinner out on the kitchen bench waiting for him to eat. He gets home, helps with the kids, hangs out with them, keeps them at least 10 metres away from me at all times. Doesn’t ever stop to eat first despite having left home at 5am to go to work and then crawls back in twelve and a half hours later. He’s a bang up guy. He really is. A gem.
So dinner is a big bowl of something I like to call “scurvy bolognaise”, which is basically beef mince made into a bolognaise with a shitload of hidden vegetables grated in so my kids don’t get scurvy. It is a regular menu item around here.
I finish stacking the dishwasher and wipe down the kitchen benches with a dirty sponge that should probably have been retired to the garbage bin a few days earlier. It collects a day’s worth of random dirt, food particles, crumbs, dog hair and other assorted varieties of organic and non-organic household detritus. It’s pretty gross. Without thinking I absent-mindedly fling the contents of the sponge into my husband’s bowl of scurvy bolognaise, which as it happens is right next to the sink, which is where I was supposed to fling it. Scatters, see?
It’s impossible to even see most of it amongst the sauce, let alone separate it from the contents of the bowl. I stare at it for a second until I realise that my only option is to mix it through. So I do.
He doesn’t read this blog so he’ll never find out. I just needed to get it off my chest.