No, this is not a post about infertility. Goodness gracious, I don’t know anything about that. This post is about my meltdown caused by an egg….a dozen of them to be exact.
Here is a little background . :)We have successfully attended our Sunday school class approximately three times since the birth of the twins but someone hasn’t taken us off of the email list so I guess they believe there is still hope for us. I got an email from our Sunday school leader’s wife, a sweet friend, asking for help to feed the family members of another class member whose father had passed away. I really do enjoy serving by sending meals to those who need them. I already have to cook and it is such a simple way to help. With that in mind, I told Henry the date and asked him if he would be able to drop it off at the church. “Yes, we should do that” he replied. I told him again when I was updated that the location to bring the food had been changed. After picking up Haigan from the church pool party, I went to WalMart to pick up the (demon-possessed) eggs and a dessert.
I have made deviled eggs probably no less than 50 times…..successfully. These eggs were different. These eggs had obviously heard the not so loving conversation that I had with Henry once I got home when he revealed to me that he had a meeting all day which had been scheduled for a while. He wouldn’t be able to drop off the food. They boiled, they were rinsed with cool water. I started to peel them…and the white started to ravel like a poorly sewn hem. First one, I thought oh well…that is why you make more than you need. I’ll eat that one. (I usually offer these to Henry but I was ticked at him – He wasn’t getting any!) Second, third, fourth….
Defeated, I sat down to email my friend to tell her that the devil had truly taken over my “deviled” eggs. Henry, meanwhile, was devising his own plan to use any staff member available to take this food by the church. Each plan he came up with made me more frustrated. My sweet friend said that they had plenty of food. I assured her that if they did not, I would call Domino’s! We both got a laugh at that.
With tears in my eyes, I moved on past that silly little failure. Things seem so huge when you are in the middle of them!
Bless his heart, my husband called again this morning still trying to figure out how he could help me get food to this funeral.
He is a good man, a great father, and a caring husband. BUT he will not be getting any deviled eggs for a while!
|One of the cult|
And thank you, Amy, for picking up a pie to take for me! 🙂