While I inhaled some ice cream, Coach drove over to my parents' house with a laundry basket of mostly bags of frozen veggies. (Just joining us? Our freezer started to defrost a week before we were going out of town). I left a message for the appliance lady because the freezer was less than 2 years old. It is a Thermador. Hello - not a cheap-ass appliance!
Later than night we noticed that the freezer had begun to freeze things again. The spoonful of sherbet that I stuck in a baggie was now frozen solid. What the?
The technician was able to come out a few days later. I did not cancel even though the situation felt less emergent because now it seemed to be less drippy and more chilly. Go figure.
The bummer -he found no issues. Come on, give me something! I started using the freezer again a bit, but I was hesitant. I did not want everything defrosting right before we left - especially the meals that I made and froze for the trip. Not to mention, what if it started to defrosts while we were away?
I told my mom that I would try to send one of the boys over to get my frozen veggies from her before they left for Vancouver. Frozen vegetables that do not belong to someone but are seeking a cold shelter can apparently heighten anxiety levels for the cold-environment provider.
The boys never ran that errand for me. I honestly preferred not to use the freezer anyway until we got back from Vancouver so I could keep an eye on it, so I hadn't reminded them or threatened their lives if they didn't do it.
As with every other millisecond of the trip, we landed back in Chicago (don't worry, I still promise to flash back to details of the trip) and one by one my offspring started to grill me about what I was serving for dinner. I was like: 'I am standing next to you in an airport. I didn't start my crockpot remotely, so I DON'T FRICKING KNOW. CHILL OUT. YOU WILL NOT STARVE.'
We stopped at the grocery store on our way home from the airport. Coach grabbed dogs to grill and milk and I scooped up some fresh fruit, bread, and yogurt. While they waited for the grill to heat up the kids switched into ransack mode. Reg opened the freezer to see what he could stuff in his face while he waited MINUTES for dinner.
He gasped. I peeked in and found the walls covered in brown grossness. I could NOT for the life of me figure it out. I stood there for a minute thinking the freezer thawed again. I had a couple of huge-ass frozen containers of Italian Beef in there. Even if they had thawed, how would they have gotten shaken up and spilled all over the walls of the fridge? Someone had some 'splaining to do.
I noted that mom had returned my frozen veggie bags, so I called her to see if the fridge looked like a fudgsicle exploded in there while she restocked. For the record, I did not have fudgsicles in the freezer. Sounds yummy though.
Me: Hi, we're home. Thanks for returning the veggies (insert eye-roll). Did my freezer look . . .
Mom: Oh, so you saw IT! Yes, I came over there the other day and the inside of the freezer was a MESS. Someone put a pop in the freezer and left it there. It exploded. (lots more details and chit chat about this event).
Me: (Insert more eye-rolls because of the unspoken: 'yeah Mom, I know. Our kids are slobs'.)
|See my very artsy double arrow -|
it is pointing out the veggies still
in the grocery bags that Mom delivered,
so while the kids are panicking about
what to eat - I was like,
'Well, who wants veggies?'
Me: Tank did you put a pop in the freezer and forget about it?
Tank: Sure. (inconclusive, as this is his code word for stop accusing me of stuff and leave me alone)
Translation: clear as mud. It was either Tank, Lad, or Reg. The girls would never. Ed doesn't drink pop. No one fessed up. The next few times Tank or Reg got in trouble I made them scrub the inside of the freezer just to cover my bases. I must admit that I was super relieved that the freezer had not defrosted again.
What are the chances that the freezer malfunction would coincide with the one (but probably not the last) time my kids ever explode a pop in the fridge?
(Part of the issue is we never have pop in our house, but I overbought for Ed's grad party and certain children have a tough time keeping their mitts off of taboo items no matter what we say).