Thursday, February 7, 2013

The Milk Martyr

We buy four gallons of milk at a time which usually causes onlookers to cast curious glances into our Sam's Club cart. I like to imagine what they may be thinking...Maybe she's hosting a milkshake party, or Has there been news of an upcoming milk shortage? Are the cows going on strike? How many people does it take to consume FOUR gallons of milk before it spoils?

The real story is that when we get home from the store we pop one gallon into the refrigerator and three gallons into the basement freezer. It's a great system for us EXCEPT when the fridge gallon runs dry. NOBODY tall enough to reach into the freezer wants to dig into the frigid depths and haul up the freeze-your-fingers-off milk jug and then carry it up from the basement to the kitchen and then hoist it onto the counter to thaw.

It's bum assignment and when the fridge is out of milk, all of the tall-enough-folks make much work of looking busy so that their number will not be called to bring up the milk. The kids seem to know the drill...they hear the fridge door open and close followed by the sound of a sigh from whomever was seeking a quick hit of dairy. What comes next goes something like this...

"Cole!! What are you doing?"

"Ummm I'm reading..."

"What are you reading?"

"Great Expectations?" (Hoping that he's named a heavy enough book to cause me go on to the next contestant on "Go Get the Milk").

"Ok...Meg where are you?"

"I'm upstairs knitting you a new pair of warm cozy gloves!" (Hoping I'll use them when I go get the milk instead of her!)


"I'm wrestling with a deep theological issue at the moment..."


"Still not tall enough Mom!"

"Can't you lift Molly up and hold her over the side so she can reach?"


And so it goes until someone just bites the bullet and sacrificially freezes their fingerprints for the greater good. The actual task rarely falls on me as I'm generally more in charge of recruitment, however, last night I was the only one awake when I remembered that there was no milk in the fridge and so the task fell to me.

This morning when Molly was intent on oatmeal, I looked at my family and said, pointing to the still partially frozen jug on the countertop, "I don't hear anybody calling me BLESS-ED* this morning!"

{*Proverbs 31:28 "Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also..."}

Molly, not wishing to deal with my morning drama, looked up and said, "Hey BLESS-ED, can I have my breakfast now?"

{In the interest of TRUTH: Cole has not read any portion of Great Expectations and Meg has not at this point in her knitting career made gloves...Kate actually is, sadly enough, too short to reach into the basement freezer.}

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