This lovely BIG GAPING HOLE in my kitchen is the place where my microwave normally lives. It is sick. NO. BUENO. I am not a cook... or I guess I should say, I do not ENJOY cooking. If I have to do it, I am more of the Sandra Lee variety. Sadly, I come from a long line of great cooks... Aunt Orangie's fried chicken could make a grown man cry. It's just not my thing, and thankfully for my children, Handsome Hubby put himself through college by cooking in restaurants. He is good at it, AND he enjoys it. He cooks dinner for my book club and bunco group. He and my mother (a.k.a. Mimi) plan and cook all of our holiday dinners while I set a BEAUTIFUL table. And yes, most of my friends and family hate me for it and remind me regularly it is NOT normal.
But it is, happily, MY normal.
That said, I am in charge of breakfast during the week. Mimi worked full time for most of my childhood, but RARELY put a bowl of cold cereal out for breakfast. Even if it was just a bowl of oatmeal or grits (my personal fave), we usually had a hot breakfast. Wanting to be an equally good mommy, I continued this tradition with my kids... which is great, unless you are a Sandra Lee cook with NO MICROWAVE. I can make a mean microwave scrambled egg taco IN MY SLEEP (with a competitive swimmer who leaves most days at 5:30 a.m. for practice that is truer than you know). Because I have spoiled my children with my stellar taco nuking skills, if I put a bowl of COLD CEREAL in front of them I get the "mom, you have just grown a third head" look... complete and utter disbelief and disgust. SO, I have been getting up for a week now and actually COOKING breakfast. ON.THE.STOVE.
Just asking, and I know it is beyond shallow...
could we all say a little prayer for the a speedy recovery for my dear friend, Mr. Microwave?
This Sandra Lee Wanna-Be Mommy is getting crabby.