This morning it took me over two hours to assemble a Vegetable Beef soup, something that should take a half-hour. All I had to do was brown the meaty soup bones and chop onions, garlic, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and kale. All the other vegetables are dried and just need to be dumped in. Honestly . . . not much to it. But there were boys crying and fighting left and right.
The littlest guy tried to carry a step-stool into another room while I chopped whatever-it-was and fell on it, pinching his fingers. (This was just one of the many crying fits he contributed over the elongated prep-time.)
The middle guy had a panic attack because he couldn't pull up his sleeves or wash his hands fast enough (as fast as his bigger brother) to come and touch the gelatinous stock. (Seriously . . . it was amazing . . . like beef jello.)
The oldest was in shambles because he wants so badly to build a conservatory but doesn't know how. He even went and picked out boards from the lumber pile, had his hammer and nails, but couldn't conjure anything that remotely resembles his ideal. Tears of frustration. I had him sit at the table with a good book and warm tea.
Eventually, after the first hour or so of attempting to put this soup together, there was a burning sensation in my brain as I contemplated whether or not I would ever finish. I did finish . . . eventually . . . but zowie, it took a long time.
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