disasters in the garden, in the kitchen... you name it, trust me!!!

So what do mums do on a rainy Sunday afternoon??? They try to behave... well - should do. But that's when I realise that I got it all wrong...! I decided to do some baking with the children. To release some of the stress from the previous days, such as:
- going to a meeting in London (if you ever read this, guys, you will recognise yourselves) where I ended up with the nickname Mrs WhipLash (thought that's what you get when you have a car accident, until KindColleagueFromWork explained to me in the lift that no, it's not what you get when you have a car crash. Shock. Horror). Anyway, I'd rather not think about that one anymore.
Note to self - remind people you are French and can't know all the subtilities of the WondferfulLanguageOfShakespeare. Although I doubt he ever knew what a whiplash is. Whether carriage crash or not.
- baking cakes at 11.00 at night on a Thursday evening (after the above mentioned stressful meeting and ThisIsNotSoFunnyCheezyHubby said that clearly, what on earth do you do/ tell people that you end up with that kind of remarks). Baked 3 cakes. One is not enough obviously. One for work, one for Fille Ainee, TinkerBell and WonderfulNannyFromHeaven and one for SuperBrilliantFrenchFriend.... none for CheezyHubby (as he pointed out), Clearly, should have been kinder to me after stressful meeting.
Note to self - don't bother baking so late... you forget about cooking time, and you have to set up the alarm clock so that you wake up in the middle of the night (felt like it) to switch oven off.... CheezyHubby even less impressed and less amused (come on darling, where is your sense of humour??? in crumbs...)
Other note to self: find out how to bake cakes that don't go as flat as a souffle as soon as out of the oven, whatever time of the day or night....
Final note to self: bake 4 cakes.......
- Gardening - or ChelseaFloserShow4debutant.com: in my books, going to garden centre (why has it got to be as expensive as if you had a daily trip to the jeweller??? diamonds are eternal. Flowers are not. Not in my garden. Where is Titchmarsh when you want him??! Just like Nigella... Soooooooo unreliable). Anyway - reshaped, redesigned and, in the most artful way ever, left unfinished. The garden. Or what was called a garden until Saturday morning...

The rain on Sunday was quite welcome, really. Until the ArtfulUnfinishedGarden (sounds better than marsh, does not it?!) turned into marsh. Never mind, am sure weeds will take over... So decided to play Uno with the girls. Who obviously won. Except I did not need to pretend to lose. I am simplky rubbish at the game. Or is it that they simply change the rules each time it's their turn to play???!!
So by the end of the afternoon, CheezyHubby thought it was about time he tries and call on God's help. So went to late service. Fair enough, might as well try and save what he can and ask for sainthood for coping with this all! Between the time he went and came back: decided that it was about time I baked (again.... see the pattern for disasters...) crumbles from Nigella (I should have learnt by now). So go for rhubarb crumble. Worked. Until I realised that I put too much better. So added more flour (as you do). Put the whole thing in little pots rather than a big dish. Put the small pots on baking sheet, opened the over door. and Patatras (sorry - French. No equivalent in English. No way). half the small pots on the floor (thank God it was clean). Cooked the remaining small pots... Decided that apples should be cooked, so made another crumble with them. Pre cook apples. so far so good. Start making the crumble. So far so good, right quantity of butter (that's an improvement) and bingo - forgot the baking powder. Never mind, won't bother. Dish in the oven. Clear everything. Hoover, and mop (pushing a bit, I know). And bingo (againg). Foudn teh missing baking powder, on top of microwave (how did it end up there??). Tidy it up to the top of cupboard until........... another patatras (get the gist of the word?) whole new pot, on the floor... wet from mopping. looooooooooooovely. Clearing again... children off to bed, teeth, story and ....... Hubby back. "what was for supper?" "what do you mean..........." Sentence stopped by realisation that crumbles are now a new recipe. Charcoal crumble. Quite an achievement in such little time. Thank you Cheezy Hubby for this very helpful comment..... so much for a rainy day.
Note to self: Next week end, we do painting. Promised.