More Share if You Dare...

Mrs. Blythe's comment on my last post reminded me of my funniest homemaking flub -- It's funny only because it turned out well and no one was hurt.

When I was carrying my son, I had a lot of morning sickness. DD is only fourteen months older than ds. At the time, she was still nursing. But, I was introducing solid foods to her, as well. And, you know what happens when you hit that stage. Needless to say, diaper changing was one trigger for my morning sickness.

One morning, I woke up feeling horrible all over and was sluggish in mind and body. I let my housework go. I shlepped around in a robe during the early part of the morning. (Warning -- No matter how badly you feel, never lounge around in a robe!) Around 10 in the morning, I got a strange craving for popcorn. So, I started some oil heating. Normally, I would never leave the stove in the process of popcorn making. But, I quickly discovered that dd needed changing. (Warning: If you start cooking something like popcorn and are called away -- turn the burner off and set the pot aside).

When I tended to dd, that prompted a whole new wave of morning sickness and a total lapse of memory that I had oil heating on the stove. Popcorn was the furtherest thing from my mind at that point. When I remembered the oil a few minutes later, I flew into the kitchen. The oil was smoking a bit. I yanked off the lid, and of course, everything flamed. (Warning: If you are ever in a similar situation, turn the burner off and set the smoking contents aside until it cools. Never feed the flame with a rush of air).

I was in a panic, so I picked up my dd and ran to a friend's two houses down and left dd with her. From my friend's house, I called 911 and reported the kitchen fire. Then, I ran back to the house and threw a box of baking soda on the flames. Of course, that stopped the burning.

So, I called the fire department and asked them not to come.

They said, "I'm sorry, m'am. Once you call the emergency number, we have to come. And, come they did, with sirens blazing. Everyone in our neigbhorhood poured out of their houses to see what was going on.

Lo and behold, the captain was a good friend of ours from church. There I was in a robe, looking a little green around the gills, and welcoming an entire squad of firemen to my untidy home. The kitchen had black soot around the fire. And, I was finding it a little hard to explain why I was popping corn at only 10:00 in the morning!

The fire fighters were proud of the way I had extinguished the fire. They praised me for calling the fire deparment, and explained they needed to check things to make sure the grease fire hadn't caused damage that might render our kitchen unsafe. Finally, they pronounced that all was well. They went on their way, and I cleaned up the mess.

Now, we enjoyed the town in which we lived. But, we were fourteen hours away from our families, and we considered moving back closer to home. The opportunity arose when I was still pregnant with ds. Dh was offered a great job in the town where he had grown up. So, we moved to a snug little cottage on the top of a mountain overlooking our new city.

Near the end of my pregnancy, I popped something into the oven to cook. There was something wrong with the oven, and it started sparking across some kind of broken connection. I turned the oven off, but I wasn't sure if there was still a remaining fire hazard. So, I looked up what I thought was the fire department's non-emergency number. They said they would be right out. I said, "But it's not a real fire. I only wanted to ask what to do ." The fire department said, "I'm sorry, but you've called our emergency line. Once you call this number..."

I waited for the firemen to arrive. It took them forever to find our cottage. They circled the little neighborhood on the top of the mountain many times -- with sirens blaring, of course. I tried to signal them, but to no avail. If it truly had been a fire, the house would have been long gone.

Finally, they found us and came in and inspected the oven. While they were there, dear hubby arrived home from work. He came in the house, calmly whistling. I suppose he had accepted that this would be my pyromania pregnancy.

Those were my only two encounters ever with the fire department -- for which I am grateful. I have great respect for fire personnel. Time and time again, they risk their lives to save others. In my book, they are true heros. But, I'm happy not to have had the necessity to call them again.

I'm happy to report that ds has never shown any signs of pyromania. Apparently, whatever fire-starting effect he had on me was confined to the time he was in my womb. Or, maybe it's just that his mama learned a little more about fire safety during that time.

Enjoy!
Elizabeth