Fowl play

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking: Hey look at that, she's doing a mid day post! Could this mean she wont be posting at 3am when all sensible adults are asleep in their beds because she's going to sleep at a normal hour?

Fat chance. I just wanted to write early, plain and simple.

Im sure theres a few of you going 'Well DAMN, what am I supposed to read when I wake up in the middle of the night or am sitting on the pot in the morning if she's posting NOW and not while Im blissfully unconscious?? She's throwing off my morning routine!'

And I feel so incredibly awful about this because you know, y'all are all so gosh darn loyal readers that you follow my every post and leave me amazing comments of encouragement.

Can you hear the sarcasm? Its DEAFENING. Its ok though. I know who y'all are. All 50+ of you that click on my links while you do your morning rituals for a little laugh. On the other hand theres my 5 registered followers. Maybe I should just treat them to cake, unicorns, and rainbows. Take that Anonymous viewers! Cake! Unicorns! AND Rainbows!

Speaking of chickens. Thats whats for dinner. Yesterday one of my fellow bloggers and highly talented friends posted about how grossed out she was with the whole chicken she was cleaning and trussing for dinner. She thought it felt like a small naked child. I thought that was putting it mildly. I've always thought it felt more like it was a cold naked dead baby. Try getting THAT image when you're 8 months pregnant with a child that hasn't allowed you to keep much down. While I was sobbing about how I just COULDN'T carve up the poor naked baby because id KILL it...I let it fall to the ground.

I never said it was a rational thought.

That was a little over 8 years ago. Ever since then I have had someone else carve up the chicken and/or dress it. For the most part I just kept a whole chicken in the fridge hoping I could casually ask a guest cut it up. Other times I bribed/threatened people.

Lately, for obvious reasons, there hasn't been anyone readily available to take care of the chicken slaughter. I was staring at the cold bagged little bodies at the commissary a few weeks ago when I decided I needed to get over my fear of dead whole chickens. It helped that this commissary doesn't carry rotisserie chickens, they were out of chicken breasts, and the butcher denied my request to cut it up for me. I didn't think it would be wise to bribe and/or threaten him. Just to make me that much more determined to get over the whole morbidity of a whole chicken, I bought two.

Needless to say, because I am so a-fucking-mazing...the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd attempts at roasted chicken were spectacular. It also goes without saying that Iris generally requests this often now. What is it with kids and repetitive menus??
I gag and get goosebumps (or should I say chicken bumps? ug...) most of the time I am washing the infant sized things and I still only use tongs to clear out and dry the cavity, but it gets done.
Today I was prepping a chicken for the oven before I leave to the gym (no I dont leave the oven on when im gone, the Ex is here with the kids. He monitors) when Aeva sauntered in.

Aeva: Momma, I want some more grapes; WHOA!! Whats dat!?
Me: Its a bird.
Aeva: A BIRD?!
Me: (*shiver* CRAP. Why did I just say that?! That makes it worse!) I mean, its a chicken.
Aeva: A...chicken?? WOW! Dats cool! Its a BIRD, its a CHICKEN!
Me: Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a DOG!
Me: (still trying to get done shoving napkins up the chicken's wazoo) Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a SHEEP!

Iris walks in to see the commotion. Lately she's becoming a little attached to me. I dont want to think what this means nor why its happening in this precise moment in life. It can wait. It makes her a little jealous of Aeva which is why she is prompted to be so cuddly towards me. She's always been a daddy's girl so I am pleasantly surprised albiet taken aback most times.

Iris: Momma, I love you so VERY much. Can I have a hug and a kiss?

My ever oblivious child, she hasn't realized Im wrist deep in a fowl. Ug. Theres just no good way to say these things.

Me: And I love you but can it wait or would you like a dose of salmonella?
Iris: (backing away) Ill...wait...
Aeva: ITS A BIRD! (No she doesn't skip a beat)
Me: Its. A. Chicken. (Losing patience here. I cannot get over the gross feeling of pulling thread tight around raw chicken skin)
Aeva: Its an ELEPHANT! "PBRRRRWWWWW!!!!" (thats her imitation of an elephant trumpeting and my poor ability to phonetically spell it. For emphasis she signed the word elephant, using her arm as her imaginary trunk)

This. This right here is what makes even this incredibly disgusting cooking requirement survivable. Covered in chicken guts and having trouble swallowing without a threat of upchucking, both my kids still want to hug me, love me, and make me laugh till I cry.

That and the AMAZING smell emanating from the kitchen.