I made yogurt yesterday and made several mistakes. I forgot to strain it, and I tried something new (less sugar, added strawberries) on 9 cups of yogurt at once – which didn’t turn out well, and I think I also let it incubate too long and the flavor was just way too sharp. So I decided to make it into muffins instead, which I baked while the kids were eating dinner. As I got the first batch out and put the second batch in the oven, I noticed that I had forgotten some more yogurt in the oven on the bottom shelf. So I reached in with potholders to get the yogurt out, and burnt my hand several times on the rack in the 400 degree oven. (Anyone know of a use for baked yogurt, by the way?)
Then, I brought the kids up to take a bath in preparation for my longtime friend’s visit tomorrow. (More on that tomorrow.) The baby was screaming at this point so I let the kids play in their bath and went to sit down in the next room with both doors open to nurse, since there is no toilet seat cover in their bathroom and hence nowhere to sit. Miriam aka “The Warden” told me that Jireh was splashing everywhere and making a mess. Well, I had figured on some water being on the floor and walls, since I wasn’t in the room with them, so I was half ignoring the sounds of water being splashed and took another minute before putting the baby down. As it turned out, she wasn’t just splashing, but was actively dumping water out of the tub by the bucketful (using the bath toy storage container with holes in the bottom). Naturally the floor was covered with about 1/2 inch or more of water. I sopped it up and threw towels, rugs and clothes down the stairs after wringing them out to the best of my ability (onto Jireh’s head. Hey, she deserved it.). After the kids were dried, dressed and in their room I started the stuff on a spin cycle.
I called a friend just to commiserate before starting on my myriad chores. As I was on the phone, someone knocked on my front door. It turns out we have a new next door neighbor and he wanted to introduce himself and get the number for the trash service. I ran into the kitchen, got him the number, and threw 3 of the muffins into a ziploc bag and told him that was the best welcome to the neighborhood present he was going to get from me.
Now, I have to put the house in some semblance of order so my friend tomorrow doesn’t think I enjoy living in squalor. We moms of many have to be careful about our reputations!