Silly Preggo Story 3.0
Crockpots and pregnant me don’t get along. (Yes that is an announcement for those who didn’t already know!)
Back story regarding versions 1.0 and 2.0 of this saga: I got two crockpots for our wedding and I used to leave my crockpots on the stove for storage. The first one bit the dust while I was pregnant with Bun because I turned the wrong burner on and it burned to a melt crisp. Same thing happened to the other one during Bamberina’s pregnancy.
So needless to say, I’ve been very, very careful with my now-third crockpot this pregnancy. Fast forward to this morning…
I was fixing breakfast. All week I’ve noticed this spot of liquid on the bottom of my oven that I’ve been meaning to get to, but it’s been kind of nuts. This morning I had the oven on 450 to oven fry our bacon and it got really smoky in here. We turned on the fans and all that and I was thinking that I really should have made time to deal with the oven.
It got smokier and smokier. It had a pretty heavy burning smell. I checked the bacon and it wasn’t burning.
So then I go to slice the bread and I can’t find my bread knife. Of course I can’t find the cinnamon bread that I bought for french toast either so what else is new. In fact half the stuff in this house is “missing” right now. I complain to DH about how I can’t find anything when I suddenly have this flash back…
Early in the week we had Bamberina’s physical therapist coming. I had spent the morning dealing with the fridge and got tired before I could finish washing dishes so I took a nap. I woke up just before the therapist was due and decided to shove everything in the oven. I took everything out the next morning and washed everything up… or so I thought.
“Um, Man o’ the House… I think I know where my bread knife is. It’s IN THE OVEN!” Sure enough, my beloved bread knife is now a melted mass of plastic and the blade. Doggone it.
So yeah, that’s my stupid pregnancy story for this time. More confirmation that this may be a boy. A knife got ruined instead of a crockpot.
I decided to laugh instead of cry.
The moral of the story: If you’re going to hide dirty dishes in the oven, make sure you get them ALL out before using the oven! ROTFLOL.