Recently, I came to a realization that spurred me into action. With a surge of feminist resolve, I thought, “Why can’t I take the lead and cook a few simple burgers?”
To clarify, my outdoor grilling skills were nonexistent; I had no idea how to even turn on the grill. Undeterred, I equipped myself with three essentials: a gas stove, a cast-iron grill pan, and the vast resources of the internet. After scouring various websites on how to use a cast-iron grill pan and determine when a hamburger is cooked properly, I felt prepared. I also noted warnings about grease fires and flare-ups during my research, prompting me to check that the fire extinguisher was within reach (yet discreetly hidden under the sink, as I didn’t want my children to sense any doubts about my grilling capabilities).
Objectives for Operation Burger
Before I began, I established some clear objectives for Operation Burger. Unlike traditional missions, these were things I wanted to avoid rather than achieve:
- Setting the house ablaze.
- Poisoning my children with undercooked meat.
- Creating hockey pucks instead of burgers.
- Incurring any personal injuries whatsoever.
- Did I mention setting the house on fire?
As I gathered my ingredients and shaped the beef patties, I reflected on how my parenting goals had evolved since learning I was going to be a mom. After a lengthy and challenging journey to conceive, my husband and I were thrilled to discover we were expecting twin boys. I was determined to be the ideal, nurturing, and fun-loving mother, vowing to breastfeed for two years, use cloth diapers, make homemade baby food, and ensure my kids were reading by age three.
Fast forward nine years and one surprise daughter later, and reality hit hard. I managed to breastfeed for just six weeks with each child. Cloth diapers? A passing thought. Jarred baby food became my best friend. My boys learned to read by age six and had been watching educational videos since they could focus on the screen. Now, my house resembles a tornado zone, and the food consumption of my children is so staggering that organic groceries would likely lead us to live in a cardboard box. Arts and crafts are too messy (Play-Doh and glitter are my nemeses), and I even managed to kill two tomato plants last year because I forgot to water them. By bedtime, I’m just relieved to have them asleep, leaving little energy for reading. I volunteer in each of my boys’ classes once a week, but it took me four years to get there, and I often count the minutes until I can escape the chaos. My once cheerful whistling has transformed into an ear-piercing “Mom scream.”
So there I stood before the stove, determined to cook burgers while hoping to avoid a catastrophe. My lofty goals had simplified to just three: keep the house intact, ensure my body parts remain unscathed, and prevent any emergency room visits for my children. If I could achieve these, I’d consider the day a triumph.
Aside from a brief moment of panic when flames erupted after I flipped a burger, dinner preparation went smoothly. The fire extinguisher remained tucked away, and the burgers received a surprisingly favorable review from my under-10 food critics. Everyone went to bed without any smoke alarms blaring or incidents of vomiting.
All in all, I’d call it a resounding success!
For those interested in home insemination, this link offers valuable resources, as does this one. Additionally, if you’re looking for pregnancy guidance, March of Dimes is an excellent resource.
In summary, while my ambitions of parenting may have shifted over the years, the desire to succeed—however modest the goals—remains unwavering.
Keyphrase: Operation Burger
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]