Driven to distraction

As a little girl, I used to find it puzzling when my Mama would burn the bottom out of the saucepan or boil the gravy/custard over the stove top. It happened quite regularly come to think of it. She would mutter to herself or sometimes to us kids and on the odd occasion curse having to do all the cooking, all the time. It's only now, as a Mama myself, that I truly understand the reason behind such kitchen mishaps. Or any mishaps. Distractions.


I've lost track of how many times I have started a load of washing, popped the powder in and ducked away, just for a minute, that turns into 20. By the time I realise I've already poured who knows how many litres of water down the drain AND set myself behind on a wash cycle that I have precious little time to make up for. This week my absent mindedness has soared to a new level. Noodles have turned to mush after being left on the boil for too long. Saucepans of milk have heated to the point of having a thick layer of skin on top. Countless bolts up the stairs and back down, without the item I went up to fetch in the first place. And probably most carelessly, I've failed to remember that my one year old explorer can now reach the tops of all tables and bench tops (and also climb (!) like a spider monkey) at least a dozen times.


But I always manage to save my best mishaps due to distraction for when I have an audience. The other day in front of my friend I had to clean poo out of Felix's hair, all because I got distracted while disposing of his nappy. It would have only been a minute, but it was long enough for him to snatch a soiled wipe and well... wipe himself with it. I swear that has NEVER happened before, but again, I don't think I've ever felt quite so distracted before either. Now that's a story he's going to love when he's older.