Game On!. . . .or, uh, Off.

After a week of vacationing for Thanksgiving and half a week of being sick (yes, the foreboding black cloud of sickness did finally settle over our house- ugh!) I am seriously off my game.

Last night I forgot dinner.  Well, not totally.  But I forgot to plan.  So at 4:45 I was down here on the computer doing a google search for how to use my leftover rice.

I actually managed to find a wonderful recipe.  Mushroom and Wild Rice Frittata.

But I forgot that I needed to leave the house at 5:30 for Miss 8’s ballet class.

At 5:00 I headed upstairs, printed recipe in hand, and told Miss 8 to set the table.  We chatted as we worked and in the course of our discourse (haha) I remembered ballet.  I sent her into her room to get dressed, but then I remembered her leotard was dirty.  I am behind on laundry, of course.  I followed her into her room, forbid her to wear the dirty leotard, and fished an old one out of Miss 6’s drawer.  But when Miss 8 put it on, it became seriously see-through.  I managed to find an undershirt to wear under the leotard.  Problem solved, I headed happily back to the kitchen.

Now it was 5:19.  Uh-oh.  My mushroom and wild rice frittata was  in danger of not being finished before I needed to leave!  I yelled to Miss 8 to get me some pears from the basement pantry.  I threw leftover salad into a nicer bowl and set it on the table.  I stirred eggs into the frittata and turned on the broiler.

Then I realized there was another problem looming on the horizon.  My Dear Husband wasn’t actually home yet.  He usually gets home at 5:15 so that I can leave with Miss 8 at 5:30.  It was now 5:30.  A quick call from Dear Husband confirmed that he would not be appearing to save us.

At this point, I freaked.

The frittata was under the broiler and I started hollering at all of my children like a crazy person.  “Get your shoes on!  We’ve all go to go!  Shoes!  Now!”

Miss 2 started to scream.  I tucked her feet into some boots.  Miss 5 put on some crazy weather inappropriate pink jelly’s.  I was afraid to look at Miss 6’s feet.  Instead I just started herding all of them out to the van to start the buckling.  I realized I was wearing ratty old blue bedroom sandals and I needed shoes, too.  I ran back for mine.  When I got back to the kitchen, I removed the frittata from the broiler.  Miraculously unburned!

Than I drove like a bat out of. . . . well, you know. . . .  down to ballet.  Tossed Miss 8 out of the van.  Drove back home, set the kids up to the dinner table with Dear Husband, who was just walking in as I went back out.  I kind of blew a kiss at him and sped back to ballet to pick Miss 8 up.

I arrived five blessed minutes early.  I sat down to relax and take a breather.  That’s when I felt a cold breeze on my ankle.  I looked down.  Now, I know what you’re thinking and no, I wasn’t wearing the old blue sandals.  (Ha ha ha. . . that would have been so-o-o- much funnier.  But no.)  I had on brown loafers.  But I forgot my socks.

In all of the mayhem, I could have burned down the house, totally forgotten ballet, or even gotten some sort of driving citation.  But all I forgot was my socks.  And Miss 8’s ballet bun.  phew- so lucky!

By the way, everyone liked my frittata.  That is to say, no one spit it out under the table, so I think it was good.  Here’s the link if you want to try it:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/27/mushroom–wild-rice-frit_n_1062110.html (minus the wild part of the rice, bacon instead of prosciutto, and mozarella instead of parmesan.