Our Fire Alarm Is Overworked

It’s been quite a week, friends.

While I wish I had something of more substance to write, I realize that I’ve unintentionally neglected my blog for another week (again.)

It tends to happen that my writing sits on the back burner when real life starts to happen. (Do you do this, too?)

I’m so honored to have stepped up my responsibilities at Richmondmom.com as I’ve taken on some of the calendar content managing, and also get another role in the big Christmas show so intense rehearsals are already underway. Despite my brief emotional breakdown, I’m back on track with other real life things like parent conferences and keeping up with my son’s school.

I’ve also been busy getting ready to throw our very first Halloween party and trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m almost 30. Eek!

So instead of bore you will all the details, I’ll just tell you the story of how the fire alarm went off at our house. Twice.

It’s no secret that I can not cook, so last week I decided to be nice and have dinner ready for my husband and son when they got home from running errands. I went for pasta, a good stand by, and put the water on to boil while I went around straightening up the house. A few minutes later I smell something burning and go into the kitchen to see flames leaping up all around the pot. I picked up the pot to move it, which of course just made the flames rise up even more quickly. At this point, the fire alarm was beeping madly. I was clever enough to remember NOT to pour water on an electrical fire, turned the eye off, and stifled the fire with my near by container of flour. The entire container.

Crisis averted, I opened all of the doors and windows, turned on some fans, and then it was time for me to leave to go to rehearsal. I texted my husband with this picture and said, “Can you guess what just happened here? Also, we might need more flour.” 1268027_372716026192324_826887844_o

I also told him that I was leaving the house with the doors and windows open so I hoped there was not a robber in the house when he got home. I’m obviously wife of the year.

Then today, in our attempts to decorate our house for our upcoming Halloween party, my husband came home with a fog machine. Which he thought would be a really awesome thing to have in the house.  After a brief set up (which included him NOT reading the directions), we all watched carefully as….nothing happened.

“Why isn’t this working? This will have to go back,” my husband said in a frustrated manner. Meanwhile, the 4 year old had the remote control and was mercilessly pressing buttons. A few minutes later, after the fog machine warmed up (as detailed in the directions, ahem) the 4 year old’s button pushing resulted in a heavy stream of fog that quickly filled up our entire living room to the point that I could not see the coffee table right in front of me and our fire alarm was again beeping madly and incessantly. And the cats were running frantically around the house because they were terrified. Luckily, this time, we all got a good laugh. Followed by a round of can’t-breathe-from-the-fog-coughing.

The beginnings of the fog machine sensation.

The beginnings of the fog machine sensation.

I’m still voting the the fog machine goes back.

What has been going on in your world?



  1. Hey, I’m still here whenever you come back. I understand if you enjoy ignoring me. I kid. I kid.
    We go all out for Halloween parties too, although we never had a fog machine. Mostly because there is drinking involved at our parties. Once I was thrown into our lamp and it busted. Ok, perhaps I may have fallen over because I was drunk…on happiness…
    Fire alarms are sensitive like a woman on her period.
    Kimberly recently posted..Hanging Memories | Ornaments With Love GiveawayMy Profile