Bananas, part two

You might remember the great banana debacle of July.

If not, feel free to refresh your memory of the adventure by clicking here.

I received many, many kind comments and suggestions at that point for using frozen bananas in the future. I knew that I would take the challenge on again, but I needed time to let my psyche heal.

That time ended today.

It's a rainy day today and I have a crock pot dinner cooking. The kids are mellow, watching Sid the Science Kid on tv.

Mia poked her head up and made some sweet comment and I thought, "Hey – what a great day for cooking together! Why not use those frozen bananas and make the best-ever banana muffins for dessert?!"

It was a stellar idea.

I pulled the frozen bananas out and decided that in the interest of time I would go ahead and defrost them in the microwave.

I started with 30 seconds. No issues.

Except that I thought the air vent over the stove was letting the smell of a neighbor's wood smoke enter the house. Wood smoke is one of my favorite smells (a drive up Oak Creek Canyon in the fall sends me into a state of blissful intoxication) and it fit so well with my rainy day mentality that I smiled a little to myself.

I checked the bananas and determined another minute was necessary.

Maggie started screaming from the bathroom that she had just accidentally gone potty in her underwear as she was washing her hands. (Now, really, who hasn't done that before?! You make one little miscalculation about whether to go to the bathroom or wash your hands first and suddenly you're standing in front of the sink with the sound of gushing water in your ears and soggy socks.)

I start toward the bathroom to help Maggie when I saw a spark out of the corner of my eye and my nose registered a strong, strong burning smell.

Los plátanos en el fuego!!!

Needless to say, I put Maggie on pause (I thought) stopped the microwave, and rescued the flaming, sparking bananas.

I still cannot believe that they caught fire.

I cannot believe that it took me four months to work up the courage to try to use frozen bananas again and I lit them on fire in the microwave when I tried!

In what world does this happen?!

I shouted directions to Maggie to clean herself up and the bathroom and went to work to finish the recipe.

At some point I realized that the sound of water in the bathroom had gone on… And on… And on…

Definitely fishy.

So I wiped my hands, left Mia in charge of mixing, Mikayla in the high chair, and checked on Maggie.

Where I was confronted with my 3-year-old sitting in the sink, washing her hair with hand soap. She was sporting a lovely mohawk and had soap running down her face.

Into the shower she went, a location where it was unlikely she would drown. I headed to the kitchen to make sure Mikayla was not covered in batter and found Mia presiding sweetly and stirring gently.

All was well. Back to the bathroom to dry Maggie off, send her on a mission for clean underwear and pajamas, then back to the kitchen to pour the batter into the muffin tray, and then, as I was preparing to spoon the batter into the pan…

…over the smell of singed banana skin, I smelled a certain mustiness.

Using my superior sense of smell I tracked the mustiness to the mini cupcake papers. It was then that I remembered that I inherited those particular mini-muffin papers from my Aunt Metta, who passed away at least seven years ago.

By taking a close look at the design of the papers and using the carbon-dating process I was able to establish the age of the papers to be circa 1972.

I just removed the papers and instead greased the pan. What's another pan at this point?

As I type now, Isaiah has arrived home and the girls think he's the cat's meow. The crock pot meal is almost done, the muffins are cooking, Maggie is wearing pajamas and been dosed with Benadryl because a rash has broken out over her mouth from digesting hand soap, Mikayla has a clean diaper, and Mia is putting on a story time for her two Dalmatian stuffed puppies (but she is calling them Great Danes).

This, my friends, is why I'm so grateful to be able to eat in the cafeteria. Hallie Homemaker I am not.

Nor do I know when I will have the courage to try again!