“babies in bed, homemade pumpkin cheesecake and cranberry sauce in the fridge, about to put on some soft music and make Bob’s pecan pie and then pop in a movie to watch on our new HUGE tv. ♥”
This is what I posted as my Facebook status as I waited for the oven to finish pre-heating for the mentioned pecan pie. Hubby was off for a boys night out and I was settling in for a perfect night.
Just as I thought that the blasted fire alarm went off. I lept up from my chair and ran into Amber’s room to reach her just as she started screaming (poor little kiddo is extremely scared of any loud noises and alarms are the most terrifying things to her). After grabbing her it was time to run and grab Tyler who had also started crying. The universal alarm in our building has this awful habit of going off at random points for no good reason. It’s so loud that it makes your ears ring and your body shake (bad bad!) I had noticed that this sounded different, just a little softer, but figured they’d finally turned the blasted thing down to a somewhat reasonable level. After bundling the kids up (with them both screaming the entire time) I walked out into the hall……
Only to realize instead of getting louder the noise had gone away.
Step into apartment–alarm going off
Step into hall–nothing
OH! It was *my* fire alarm that was going off….oh great. So back in I go (kids still screaming) to try to get it to stop. After standing on a footstool on top of a chair (dangerous yes, and no I’m not really that short–our ceilings are very high!) I figured out that I each alarm must be wired to each other (they were all going off) and this would be no simple pop-out-a-battery deal. At that point I haul the kids out on to the balcony and call hubby. Of course he’s in the middle of downtown Boston and no help so I tell him to forget it and call maintenance. I hear him tell his buddies “so apparently my wife is having another man come take care of her” *laughter in the background*
Yeah har-har very funny guys.
After listening to the “Do not call this line unless one of the following things is going on…..*follow 12 minutes of what you can call for*” message twice due to my cheek hitting the wrong number I finally got ahold of someone who said they’d send someone over to turn it off. While we waited Amber kept telling me how it was just “so scary” and Tyler screamed while we enjoyed the brisk night air of New England in November. Joys.
The alarm turns off suddenly and just then I hear a knock on the door. I go open it to the maintenance guy who I tell–“I swear it just turned off!!!!” Thankfully he was a very nice guy who believed me when I said I honestly wasn’t even cooking at the time and certainly hadn’t burned anything. As Amber would say he quickly “Fixed the beep beep all better.” and went on his way after wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving and helping me not feel like such an idiot. Nice guy!
Then it was time to try to do bedtime routines part II and get both kids settled back in bed. Tyler went down fairly easily but Amber took an entire episode of Calliou, 2 stories, and a lullaby to calm down.
By now it’s 10:30 and I go to investigate the oven. Upon opening I see a black charred mess on the bottom of the stove. So that’s what made the stupid alarms go off! (and I honestly still have no idea what caused it since I don’t know of anything that spilled in there) here’s even proof that I didn’t burn (or spill) the pumpkin cheesecake just so you know I’m not lying
Next comes 30 minutes of me scrubbing and scouring the oven to make sure we don’t have a repeat of what just happened.
Around 11 I start to make the pecan pie. Pre-heating is going well with no smoke anymore and I get everything together and pop The Way Home in to watch while it bakes. 30 minutes in I have to take the pie out to cover the crusts so it won’t burn. Upon putting it back into the oven I somehow tip it to the side and sploosh–pecan pie filling ALL over the bottom of the hot stove and smoke billowing everywhere.
Cue me going into hysteria running around like a mad woman openings doors and windows, turning on fans, and hopping up and down flinging my arms in the air to disperse the smoke before it sets off the alarm–again.
Then I had to let the oven cool down
So I could again scrub the blackened charred goo
To make sure it was no longer smoking
So I could cook that stupid pie once and for all
I crawled into bed at 1 a.m.
to have Tyler wake up and need to eat
as soon as he was done hubby walked in the door and when he saw I was awake wanted to chat about his evening
Que me collapsing into bed around 2 a.m. knowing Tyler would get me up at least 3 more times before needing to wake up for good to tackle cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal the next day with a cranky baby and toddler.
Thanksgiving Baking. Epic. Fail.