Fire and Brimstone

On Thursday I turned on the stove to make some macaroni and cheese for the kiddos before leaving for a much anticipated Girls Night Out. I left the kitchen to put away some towels while the water worked up to a boil.

Several minutes later Mason walks into the hall and says, "Mom, fire!" I thought for sure he was seeing some flashing lights out the window or had perhaps found a picture in a book. Not so. My stove top was on fire!

I had accidentally turned on the wrong burner and combusted the plastic microwave plate coverer. Who knew plastic could create foot high flames?

I turned off the stove and tried to remember whether it was for an electrical fire or a grease fire that water is prohibited. I got a skillet lid and tried to smother the flames. Since the melted plastic was burning from under the coil, this was little help.

By now smoke was filling the kitchen and the fire alarm was blaring. This kids were crawling on the floor (I guess they were listening to that fire safety lesson) and wondering if they should make an escape to our meeting place by the neighbor's tree. I calmly asked Kate to tell Dad the kitchen was on fire while I tried to blow out the flames. I was thinking about using the fire extinguisher in the closet, but I could remember all too well the last time I had to use one on the microwave and the resulting coat of white dust throughout the kitchen.

Shem arrived, dampened an old towel (after first asking if I cared that it would get ruined) and put out the fire.

It all sounds so matter of fact, but we really were quite calm. That is, until it was over and I began replaying in my mind all the stressful events of the week. Thursday night proved to be the beginning of the end of the week from hell.

But after an hour long cry on Friday, a visit to the temple, and kind words from my MIL (after asking "How did you raise 10 kids and survive? sob, sob, sob"), and her three hours of effort the following day to help me, quite literally, clean up my life (thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU! My house looked amazing!) - I am functional again.

There is a country song by Rodney Atkins that fits perfectly, "If you're goin' through hell, keep on going. Don't slow down, if you're scared don't show it. You might get out 'fore the devil even knows you're there."