Mortified? Me? Well, yes...yes I am.

It all started out with what I thought was a rather good idea. Breakfast for lunch. The kids totally dug it. Bacon, eggs, toast, and hot chocolate for lunch? What an cool idea, Miss Tiffany!

I was at the stove making bacon. I dunno what I was doing wrong, but the bacon was all sticking to the pan and withering into nothing. And not the proper kind of withering that bacon is supposed to do. Still, they turned out OK. I planned on making the eggs in the bacon grease because, really, everything tastes better when made in bacon grease. But after cracking open and whipping a few eggs with some seasoning, I noticed that everything in the pan was blackening. Oh well, shucks to bacon grease, I'll just use a different pan.

So what did I do with the bacon pan?

Me, being the GENIUS that I am put it in the pan in the stove and EVER SO SMARTLY decided to cool it off with some water.

Because I'm just so intelligent like that.

Well, obviously, smoke goes everywhere and the fire alarm goes off. But this isn't a normal fire alarm. No. These people have a security system and when the fire alarm goes off, the security system company is notified.

They call. "No, the house isn't on fire. I was just cooking some bacon...and, well, I'm not to bright. But there's not fire at all." Oh, that's okay, the man says, but do I have the false alarm password?

Um. That would be a negative. Still, he says, it's all okay and so we hang up and I go about finishing lunch.

The phone rings again. MomBoss's friend in Kansas City calling to make sure that everything is okay. Because the security company called her. She says that she thinks they're sending out a fire truck.

Oh. No. Please, Lord, don't let them send out a fire truck. Please. That would be so embarrassing.

A few minutes later, through the still cracked window, I hear a distant fire truck. "Oh no."

The kids want to know why I said, "Oh no." But I tell them that I'm being silly, and hey, breakfast-lunch is on the table. Let's eat! Right as we sit down, a fire truck pulls up to the house. I close my eyes momentarily. Okay. So, now the neighbors are curious.

I say to the kids who are kind of scared, "Look! You get to meet a real live fireman!" And suddenly, for them, this is all rather cool.

This is not cool for me. With one kid on my hip and the other holding my hand (#3 was asleep in his crib) we go outside to talk with the fireman. Next-door-neighbour is outside and I wave sheepishly at him to let him know that we're okay.

Hopefully all the neighbors think that Alex hit the alarm by mistake or something. It's awful to pawn that off onto a kid, and I'd never tell someone that had happened, but maybe, for a little while, they won't think I'm incompetent.

Flustered, I talk with the fireman and assure him that the house is not on fire nor was there ever a fire. I blush, embarrassed, when I mention it was because of my cooking and he winks at me.

Alex then proceeds to tell the fireman all about his two firetrucks and how this man is not the first fireman he's met. Alex now has officially met TWO firemen and he is hot stuff. (No pun intended.)

The fire truck drive away as Alex and Lauren wave to it. It loudly honks just in case, you know, there were other neighbors who had yet to see the nanny explaining things to the firemen.

We go inside and finish lunch. I am so embarrassed. I still am. The neighbors will think that I can't take care of kids. That I don't know how to work a stove. I mean, I know it doesn't really matter what they think...but still. And I'll have to explain this all to Jeff and Janelle when they get home.

"But," I though, consoling myself, "at least I'll have an interesting blog for today."

♥, Tiffany Anne