Some moments are best had alone. Tonight the coconut milk broke me.
My day started at 5:45am and never stopped…
There were the homemade pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon; making and packing lunches; trips to and from schools; three grocery store runs to three different stores (not worth explaining); laundry x a million that I swear produces like rabbits; art and painting with the boys; football and baseball in the yard; canning an epic batch of strawberry jam; preparing dinner for the boys; helping with homework (stick bamboo shoots up my finger nails); bedtime routines and reading and then the nineteen million
Mommy!!!… I have one more question!… I can’t sleep… Can I have the same breakfast tomorrow?… Are we fans of the Kansas City Chiefs?… How many days ’til Halloween?… Why are you so tired Mommy?… Can you record ESPN and SportsCenter?…
All I wanted was some music and to cook and enjoy my dinner. I don’t ask for much.
I’d been craving Penang Curry for two days and spent a fair amount of time prepping it tonight while my guys sat at the counter eating their dinner and doing homework. While I know my home-made version is nothing like what I adore in my favorite Thai place, mine has everything I love.
Shiitake and baby bella mushrooms, red onions, broccoli, red, orange and yellow peppers, lemon grass, organic chicken, fresh ginger and garlic, cilantro and of course… the creamy and velvety coconut milk.
Stomach growling, kids finally quiet and tucked in bed, I turned up the music and began to cook.
Who the hell knows what happened. Maybe I was so damn giddy that I was going to enjoy a moment eating a meal, that I lost all sense of control. It all should have been on video, but I’m grateful it’s not.
It was ugly.
It was pathetic.
Just as I finished opening the can of coconut milk it fell out of my hands, hit the counter squarely and erupted all over the counter, floor, covered me head to toe and splattered everywhere like a damn crime scene. Of course, I had to remove my glasses (opaque with velvety coconut milk) in order to see the crime scene I’d created.
Stupid clumsy hands and yes, I blame the stupid piece of shit brain tumor.
Immediately the dogs were lapping it up and lapping it off me.
I stood dumfounded, numb and starving .
Normally I’ve got a stock of these in my pantry and for whatever reason this was my last can. Gone. Wasted. I’m so glad the dogs enjoyed it.
I had no rage. I had no anger. I just simply lost it. The wheels fell off the bus as I stood, dogs frantically trying to edge out one another for more milk and stepped away from the counter and began to sob.
Then I crumbled onto the floor in the middle of my kitchen with a damn can of coconut milk all over me. The coconut milk had broken me.
Eventually, still starving, I cleaned up what the dogs couldn’t reach and assessed the bowls of prepped food on the counter.
Then I cried again.
Can’t a girl get some Seamless Web in the burbs? I chose to improvise, it tasted nothing like what I wanted and I cooked it and ate it in my milk covered clothes. It was a meal and I was hungry.
Under the cover of darkness, my coconut milk covered self took out the trash and recycling cans to the street and called it a day.