of the Great Cooker Tantrum (and Other Disasters)

I had one of those weeks. No, honestly.

It started last Sunday with us actually trying to be ahead of schedule with the Christmas tree for a change… except the garage door refused to open. We replaced the remote battery, as you do, because of course it had to be the battery—but still nothing. There was the option of going in through the roof, but it was already dark and Mr. J (who suffers from a fear of heights) did not want to see either me or himself plummeting to our deaths on this auspicious Sunday.

So, the tree had to wait until this weekend. However, the plot thickened: Lovely-Last-Born began feeling—and looking—very poorly, with a horrible throat thing.

Monday rolls around, and there’s a random car parked right across our driveway, which means I now have to Uber to work and back. Meanwhile, LLB has added a raging fever to the horrible throat thing. Mr. J kindly offered to work from home to handle this side-show.

Wednesday: I drop a healthy, bright-eyed LLB at school. I get back in the car… nothing. It takes me 20 minutes to realise that this time it is the remote. It takes me another 10 minutes to figure out how to override this dilemma.

Skip a few hours, all back home, and we discover that LLB has passed the germ baton to Magnificent-Middle-Mimi. In the background, my already moody cooker throws a spectacular tantrum and shatters her glass panel all over the place (talk about throwing toys). We are yet to learn what offended her so deeply. We however decide to take the calm approach (and advantage of the last of the Black Friday specials) and order a new one.

At this stage, I feel we’ve ticked the Rule of Three—and the new cooker comes with a built-in air fryer, so things are looking up. We also decide that since the cooker is being replaced and family is coming to stay the week of Christmas, we might as well give the kitchen a quick fresh lick of paint. This we schedule for Saturday morning.

It however seemed that we were signed up for a double “rule of 3” – Thursday, Beautiful-Miss-Tall clocks in with the same throat-and-fever combo.

Saturday: In between the painting chaos, the delivery guys arrive three hours after their slot and announce that they cannot deliver the cooker—our steps are too steep, and we need a special team who can only come next Sunday.

At least we’ve sorted the garage door, and all the Christmas-tree bits are waiting in the lounge for when Mr. J and I return from LLB’s Christmas Fair.

We come back cold and tired. My kitchen is a mess, covered in paint paraphernalia; the dishwasher is only half unpacked; all the lunch things are still around and I have one of those moments where you realise you just have to crack on. You don’t feel like it, but that is how it is. The tree can’t wait—the girls won’t all be home on Sunday and we don’t want to leave it for another week.

So, we make hot chocolate in the freshly unpacked Christmas mugs, put on some festive tunes; Mr. J gets cracking with the painting; I start powering through the kitchen, and the girls are appointed as the Decorating Elves.

And then… two hours later… we’re sitting together… watching the quarter-finals of Strictly…. eating delicious Parmigiana di Melanzane, lovingly made for us previously by M³. The house is clean… the Christmas lights are dancing quietly on the tree… and I think… there is very little crazy… that can’t be overridden… by the good and the lovely in our lives.

The Elves