Pea Accidents Happen

I know.

Do you ever get the feeling that only the crazy, off-beat things happen to you?

Well…busy moms, fear not!

Have I got a story for you!

Just kick back and relax. Please join me now as dish over cyber coffee and trail mix—the healthy kind (with peanuts, cranberries, and oh yeah…butterscotch morsels and white chocolate chips).

Today’s blog post title is a shameless play on words. (I had a different one in mind, but my husband’s suggestion seemed a tad more appropriate…and creative.)

After all—what parent can’t relate to a good pea story? And combined with “accident”? Well—see what I mean?

Buckle up. Here we go.

It was the ideal meal. Simple with little clean-up. You know…the kind we throw together in a matter of…oh, say…a few hours.

I browned the ground beef for my hamburger casserole, boiled the mostaccioli noodles, and readied a few other ingredients in my favorite, big mixing bowl.

I washed dishes as I went and I chose my prettiest casserole dish. Not.

Are you kidding? (Hey, this is graduation prep week! I’m blessed to have a working brain cell left in my head.)

I did the easy thing. (Don’t judge me.) I reached for my fancy aluminum disposable pans and dumped (I mean transferred) the contents of the mixing bowl.

Plop.

There.

Done and done.

Into the oven the casserole went.

Next up?

Might as well use those remaining three bananas before they turn brown.

Banana-nut bread, here we come! (*Recipe in this month’s newsletter*)

Mmm… I could almost taste the deliciousness.

I snagged my handy, dandy mixing bowl—the clean one I’d just washed by hand—and knocked out enough batter for two mini loaves of another family fave.

Again, I washed as I went.

The banana bread and hamburger casserole called for the same baking temperature for about the same amount of time. Perfect. (Yes, that word. The one we should never use because as soon as we do, we’re doomed.)

I set the timer and moved on to another fun task—laundry folding.

Look at me! I’ll have everything done with time left to spare. Maybe I can snatch a few minutes to knock out some words in my WIP.

Oh, the giddiness!

Fifty minutes later, I was on a roll.

I decided to serve Texas toast with the casserole. No real work there—I laid out the slices of buttered garlic toast on—what else— a foil-lined pan.

Hooray! Almost done with this quick and easy supper. The only thing left to do was to warm the sweet peas in the microwave and fill the glasses with iced tea.

Between the bubbling casserole and the banana-nut bread, the kitchen smelled divine. (And yes—the little lights on my baker’s rack were twinkling so the ambiance was—dare I say it? Perfect.)

Hubby arrived home from work, and darling daughter—our graduating senior—joined us at the kitchen table.

“Smells good, Mama. I’m hungry!”

Ahh. My heart swelled. Not because our teenager was hungry, but because, as a mom, there are no sweeter words than Smells good, Mama. (Except maybe… “I’ll help with the dishes.” *wink*)

As my husband asked the blessing on our meal, the microwave beeped, signaling the peas were ready.

To save time, let me just say—I knew those little green stinkers went way too long in the microwave. It was obvious when I opened the door and found them boiling. I’d set the timer for a minute longer than I usually did.

Aacckk! What a mess.

Pea juice was all over the glass turntable and underneath it, too. (This time, I hadn’t drained the peas first before microwaving. BIG mistake.)

I grabbed my oven mitts and a kitchen towel, and I attempted to clean under the glass dish before carrying it over to the stove top. Then I used my oven mitt to actually carry the bowl over.

Except something happened. My hand slipped around one of the handles and whoosh, thunk, splat!

The glass dish, lid, and boiling hot peas tumbled from my hands, splattered on my thigh, and landed in a steaming, green pool on my left foot—mostly my toes. (Of course, the floor, cabinets, and oven door got their share, too. BUT miraculously? The dish and lid didn’t break! My foot and toes absorbed the mishap. Go figure.)

I think I screamed. (And I’m not a screamer.) “Ohh! My toes!”

The pain was so intense I saw stars—and let me tell you—they weren’t the pretty ones either.

I immediately stripped off my left sock and jeans, and I applied a cold dish rag to my toes, and later, some ice. (I probably should have done the ice first.)

Please join me again Friday for Part Two of this post!

(Tiny spoiler: I’m fine—or at least I will be soon. And it’s not every day I do a half-dressed jig in the kitchen so that part, at least, I can smile about. Almost.)

 

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ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS YOU MAY ENJOY

The Upside of Mistakes

When You’re Drowning in Dandelions… Laugh!

When the Same Thing Doesn’t Work

 

PLEASE SHARE

Crazy things happen. Why I’ll never look at peas the same way again.

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Life is rarely perfect. What changed my perspective.

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Original Image Credit: cocoparisienne/Pixabay

Okay. Enough about me. How’s your week going?

Has a foible ever challenged your perspective?

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On Friday I’ll share the rest of this story! (Meanwhile, I’m so thankful for God’s provision.)

Thanks for visiting, friend. Delighted you stopped by!

Much Love and Many Blessings,