some days are unphotographable

Like today.

A work day, of course.

Began pretty well, no therapies this morning (2 mornings a week I juggle breakfast/ getdressed/ lunchesmade/ getpackedup followed by daycare drop-off and then Henry's occupational therapy or speech therapy and then school dropoff and then get myself across the city to work. Actually going pretty well with this. Occasionally I forget a child's hat or get to the car and find I have no shoes on.)

Anyway, the start of the day all went pretty well, work is a little chaotic but still invigorating, and I love the school drop off and pick up. Love it. I love those 10 minutes of chatting to excellent people, getting to know them; I think maybe it means you're at the right school if you feel real affection for the other parents. 

No, really, it all only started going horribly wrong at about 5.30pm. 

I was making Annabel Karmel's homemade chicken sausages for the first time (my sister Naomi swears by this recipe) and the kids were starving and they took longer than I thought to prepare. Then they were too light and moist to turn into sausages so they became patties. After using the food processor, a big bowl, a frypan and then an oven tray, I felt less than cool when both kids marched into the kitchen announcing they hated chicken sausages. 

Meanwhile I was wondering how completely incompetent I could be at the stove (for one who has been paid to cook by more than one employer in the past) as I very nearly dropped a heavy frypan of oil on my feet and banged my knees on the oven door multiple times. Then dropped half my carrots on the floor and splashed myself with the boiling potato water. A symphony of competence.

Finally got the chicken thingos onto the plates with steamed carrot and mashed potato (bugger the broccoli) and while I was distracted by Henry who was stealing an apple from the fruit bowl, Tilly accidentally tipped one of the dinner plates onto the floor. And don't know about your kitchen floor but mine isn't really able to be eaten off.

Loud words may have been said, two small people may have dissolved in tears, and I may have gone to sit on the spare bed for a minute and removed my bra. Immediately felt better.

Returned to kitchen, plated up another dinner for Tilly and sat down with them.

Annabel Karmel's proper chicken sausages are probably great, these adapted ones with extra flour and chicken mince rather than breast and basil rather than parsley were delicious. And the kids both ate them (but, in the spirit of full disclosure, I bribed them with a smartie if they ate it all up. The power of a single smartie. I don't even feel guilty.)

My friend Melissa sent me a similar recipe that she invented with chicken mince and chick peas – I'm going to try that and then I'll blog the recipes. 

So after getting them through the shower and storied and into bed why am I on the computer and not with my feet up in front of Costa's Gardening Odyssey? (Gosh I LOVE him!) 

Because I'm waiting for the custard I just made to cool and set.

Good times.


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