smoke

On Sunday I burned the pot of oatmeal. (The pot is still soaking. Apparently my no-scratch sponge is no match for burnt oatmeal.)

On Monday, I semi-burned some chicken fingers.

On Tuesday, I burned two eggs. Because when you put your breakfast in the pan, and then start school, forgetting that you have two eggs frying on the stove top, they burn.

Yesterday, burn free. Today, burn free, although after I fried my eggs this morning I forgot to turn off the burner, and it would have been on for quite some time if Adam hadn't seen it before he left for work.

You see, my brain function has been reduced to an embarrassingly low level by the condition I find myself in. Growing a human being is not easy on the brain. Well, it's not easy on my brain anyway.

Simple tasks become daunting perils. Movie plots confuse me, words fail me, and cooking has morphed into burning. It is sad, people.

But this state of stupid does yield a yummy smelling fuzzy head and chubby cheeks and a heiny that fits into ridiculously tiny diapers. I may not be a smart woman able to successfully cook oatmeal, but I bake up cute little babies.

:)