The Chicken that Nearly Blew My Face Off

Last night, I decided it would be a good idea to fire up the grill to cook a whole chicken. It was a calm, pleasant, even coolish night, and I thought that sitting on the deck would be a great way to spend an early summer evening.

I am a good cook but I have never turned on the gas grill before, and I have never really cooked anything other than a few burgers on the grill. The grilling responsibilities have long since been abdicated to my husband.

Things started off okay. I opened my Paula Deen cookbook, found the recipe for "Beer in the Rear" chicken, and then rinsed, dried, and seasoned the big 'ole bird. In my brain I was thinking "how hard can it be?" My husband grills a lot...

Well, apparently, it is beyond my capabilities.

I turned the knobs, I hit the ignitor, nothing happened. Called the husband. Turned a few more handles, adjusted some settings, nothing happened. Called the husband. Pulled out my large candle lighter thingy, stuck it in the side of the grill and........

KABLAM

There were bits of hair falling out, a lovely singed smell about me, and a scary new sense of my own mortality. I was so close to really burning my face that I had to sit in stunned silence for several moments while the fire roared in the grill.

Things didn't get any better from there. I turned the flames down, put the chicken on the grill, lowered the lid, and went inside to clean up my hair and to check out the damage. Next thing I know, there was billowing smoke coming from the grill. The flames were so huge that I could barely get the lid open (finally dawned on me to get the oven mitts -- duh). I was hesitant to turn the grill completely off because I did NOT want to have to restart the fire and at that point I actually thought I would need to keep cooking the chicken. Ultimately, I turned off the grill because I was about to burn down the house and deck. Even after I turned it off, the flames did not subside for 10 or 15 minutes. Nothing like a little burning chicken fat to really get a fire going.

The chicken looked like a blackened marshmallow. Torched skin and a raw interior. Scrumptious.

I called husband. He picked up dinner.

I will try again to conquer the grill.

The Heart of a Teenage Boy

I think that I am really a teenage boy at heart. What else would explain my absolute fascination with my son's SpongeBob video game or why I can't focus on anything else if I get caught up playing the Sims? I have to just cut myself off from this depraved need to "win" the game!! If the responsible parents in my neighborhood knew that my six year old and I had to learn to "share" the Nintendo game controller, I would be so embarassed. Maybe there is a reason I have three boys. I now know more than I ever thought I would about dinosaurs, HotWheels cars, and poop jokes.

The Kindergarten Rat Race

Why am I the only parent in America who is looking forward to my child finishing school so that we can laze around, sleep in, and live an unscheduled life? Other parents I know are running around trying to sign up their kids for every activity in the great wide world so that their children will be occupied every day this summer. For my kids, I have a two-week day camp planned, a week at the beach later in the summer, and lots of time goofing off on the agenda. I just can't get into this hyper-scheduling mindset. It is almost like people are afraid to spend time with their kids or at home. Or maybe they just think that it will help their kids to get ahead if they are exposed to every possible thing early in life. But come on, my oldest is in KINDERGARTEN. I was still eating paste in Kindergarten and my life was one big haze of playing, eating, sleeping. There were not millions of activities on the calendar at all times. It seems that 99% of the parents I know have ADD because they must fill their kids lives with a never-ending string of enrichment! Didn't someone important once say that kids learn best through play?

Laziness

We are just back from the beach. We had a great time in the Outerbanks (N.C.). The kids are all rosy cheeked and healthy looking (in a responsible sunscreen parent sort of way). Only major problem is that I can't get back into the swing of things here. The house is a wreck, laundry needs to be folded, bathrooms are getting grimy, kids are at loose ends because toys are scattered and pieces are not together, and my brain feels frozen to do anything about it. I am in a rut.

We had a birthday party for my middle child who turned 4 the week before we left for the beach. Because my attention shifted to the beach preparation right after the party, we still have silly string on the deck, birthday presents in the living room, empty boxes and gift bags sitting around, and all sorts of other birthday related stuff strewn about. It was not especially wonderful to get back from the beach with a messy house awaiting us. I knew as we walked out the door that I would regret coming back to a messy house. Funny the things that I tell myself to do but never get around to doing. And now there is beach clutter to add to the pile of birthday debris.

I just don't know why it takes me so long to recover from events. Those people who stay up late after a party to wash dishes (like my husband) are saints. I exert so much last minute energy when I am hosting something that I just can't get back into the clean-up side until much later.
My mother always says her house is wreck, even though it always perfectly tidy and clean. My whole childhood the house was neat and clean. Why has that clean gene skipped me? Maybe my kids will be really tidy adults. Today I have one goal. It is to finish cleaning the laundry. Tomorrow we'll worry about folding it.......