Most directions for making tacos read something like this:
1.) Brown 1lb of ground meat in a frying pan with some oil
2.) Add seasoning mix and water
3.) Warm tortillas in microwave and serve with salsa and sour cream.
So, when the kids very excitedly asked if we could have "Taco Tuesday" I thought sure, what the heck. Even though I was following the directions closely for making tacos, I wasn't prepared for what happened next.
Below are my directions for making tacos. They go a little something like this:
Start browning 1lb of ground chicken in a frying pan with some oil.
Pull out seasoning pouch. Try to tear it open at the little "tear here" symbol. As usual you are doing everything with one hand which is tricky enough, however the same people that package cds and children's toys have also apparently gone into the business of taco seasoning because that sucker will not open.
Finally, after uttering multiple obscenities under your breath and vowing to call the complaints hotline, you will open the seasoning pouch and attempt to pour into the frying pan
You are completing these directions while balancing a sick baby on your hip and while using the spatula with your right hand even though you are left handed, because the baby will cry if switched to your right hip.
Because of step 3 you will now flip the spatula out of the frying pan, sending it to the floor along with the seasoning pouch. The seasoning pouch is of course now open.
You use your foot in a frantic attempt to stop the dog from licking the spatula and eating the seasoning mix off the floor while still balancing the baby
At this point both of your older children will enter the kitchen in need of something and no it can't "wait just one bloody second!"
As you attempt to usher those children out of the kitchen, one of them will look at the frying pan, turn up their nose and ask, "What's that?" "It's meat for the tacos." "I don't like that meat." "But you asked for tacos! You desperately wanted tacos so that's what I'm making!" "Oh. I didn't know that's what tacos were. I don't think I like tacos." You will now need to take a deep breath and count to ten......
At this point you will give up on the mess on the floor and ask the dog if she would like some @#%&* sour cream.
The smoke alarm will now go off because in all the excitement you forgot to turn the burner down and the meat has scorched in the pan.
The smoke alarm will upset the baby.
You will now pull a pizza out of the freezer and inform the house that the next person to utter the words "Taco Tuesday" will lose their electronics for a month.