Home Life Laurie Nigro Laurie Nigro: Calm in the face of ‘calamity’? Not!

Laurie Nigro:
Calm in the face of ‘calamity’? Not!

Stock photo: Fotolia

My daughter got injured at her track meet this week. Nothing serious — some cuts and scrapes that will certainly heal. Nonetheless, it was a scary experience. However, it also allowed one of her teammates to step up and fill the role of caretaker. In retelling the story, my little one explained that this other girl was immediately by her side. She was calm and comforting, tending to my child’s wounds, while also soothing her emotions. (“She should be a nurse or EMT, mom. She was awesome.”)

I was overwhelmed by this child’s compassion for my daughter. I was also quite impressed by her ability to stay calm under pressure. There was plenty of blood and fear flying around, something that would upset many an adult. The calmness my girl’s teammate displayed is not an inherent trait for tween and teenaged people.

 

A few years back, I forgot to put the removable plates in my waffle iron before I turned it on. In a surprisingly short amount of time, the unit set aflame. I quickly unplugged it, carried it outside to the driveway, came back in for the baking soda, went back outside, and doused the burning unit, which immediately squelched the fire. While I was moving through these steps, one of my offspring was screaming. Uncontrollably. The entire time.

As I’ve learned through the years, staying cool under pressure is not inherent for adult people, either. My child did not come by hysterical reactions without genetic assistance. My husband, who can deal (and has dealt) with severe injuries and perilous situations with the coolness of a bomb squad leader, has a bizarre reaction to non-emergency situations that he has somehow determined are actual emergencies.

Last weekend, he was scheduled for an oil change. Minutes prior to the appointment, I texted him about one thing or another and asked if he was already there. As can happen on a busy Saturday, he had forgotten about it. He was only going to end up about 10 minutes late, so I told him he should still go. I arrived home a few minutes later to find one of our travel coffee mugs lying in the driveway. The top was in pieces and I quickly scolded the child who had used it last for their carelessness. As I lamented my child’s lack of respect for other people’s items, my phone rang. My husband was not sure where he needed to go. Granted, it was not our usual service station, but we have we used this one before and we’ve also driven by at least once a week, for the past 15 years. In his panic to get there on time, this information seemed to have escaped him. When he arrived home about an hour later, he noticed the coffee mug (that I had repaired) on the counter.

Him: I’m glad you were able to fix it.

Me: Wait, did you break it?

Him: It fell when I was trying to leave and I didn’t have time to deal with it so I just threw it.

Me: What?

Him: I was late.

Me: (stunned silence)

When is this ever the proper reaction? I can’t even comprehend the thought process. I mean, if I opened my car door and anything fell out, I would pick it up and put it back in the car. Maybe, if for some reason the presence of the object was objectionable, I might put it on the porch. I cannot imagine a situation, other than a hand grenade rolling out, where I would grab the item and throw it. And really, if it were a hand grenade, I’d likely choose the “run” option. So really, there is no time that throwing would occur to me.

But this was a mild reaction compared to situations that develop in our kitchen every time my husband decides to cook anything. And God forbid he tries to make two things at once. Our house goes into complete lockdown and I have to use all of my negotiating skills to bring him back off his imaginary ledge.

The panic that rises to the surface would be comical if it weren’t so freaking insane. If the man does not time it perfectly when cooking his omelet and toast, he goes into crisis mode. He cannot possibly imagine how he will salvage his breakfast. There have been times when he put the bread in the toaster and forgot to turn it on. When he eventually realized his (not) catastrophic mistake, he released a torrent of foul-mouthed accusations that called the toaster’s mother’s morals into question and then nearly threw his entire breakfast plate across the kitchen.

You would think that this type of reaction is firstly, not normal — because it’s not — but secondly, preventable — but it isn’t. Because even if the toaster rings its little bell, proudly declaring the completion of its task, at exactly the moment that the omelet has reached the perfect stage of doneness, there are still histrionics.

“Oh my God! I need to butter the toast.”

“So butter it.”

“But my eggs are done.”

“So take them out of the pan.”

He glares at me with a disrespect that I have not earned then hurries forth, nervous as a mouse on a cocaine bender, and somehow manages to salvage his meal (like, every single time). But not before everyone in the house has experienced elevated cortisol levels and gone through a fight-or-flight response scenario.

I won’t even get into grilling. Suffice it to say that our kitchen is more than 50 yards from the grill. My husband has sent scared children, incoherent texts, and probably smoke signals, to alert me of the dire situations in which he has found himself, such as not having a brush for spreading the oil (which he also left inside) on the chicken, forgetting any and all tools, or not having any dish, plate, or platter on which to place the finished food items.

I used to try to save him from his own self. But that was exhausting. So now I sit back (usually with a glass of wine or three) and wait for the inevitable panic. Then I quietly place the platter on his grill table, ignoring the wide-eyed, head-spinning exorcism-in-action, and go back to my regularly scheduled life. It’s better for all of us.

The easiest and tastiest way to grill chicken is to oil, salt, and pepper it. But we also like to use varying rubs. Since half of us love spicy and half of us do not love spicy, we keep a Cajun rub and a savory rub on standby, at all times. It can be time-consuming to put together, but if you make a huge vat, it will last all summer long. We keep a couple of mason jars at the ready. I like this Cajun one from food.com and the savory one from eatingwell.com but I use black pepper instead of white pepper. I absolutely hate white pepper and think it smells like a wet goat, but you should definitely go with your personal preference. It’s not my business if you have a thing for goats.

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Laurie Nigro
Laurie is the mother of two biological children and one husband and the caretaker of a menagerie of animals. Laurie is passionate about frugal, natural living. She was recognized by the L.I. Press Club with a “best humor column” award in 2016. Email Laurie