What's the time rule for bins?

I don't pay that much attention to germs.

I know that I should. I know that good hygiene is a big part of not getting sick, perhaps the most important thing. But unless I or the kids have touched something really bad (i.e., poo), I often forget handwashes. Like, nearly always often. And when I remember, well, it's usually too late. The kids are already eating their dinner with dirty hands. Sometimes visibly dirty hands.

And that 3-second rule for food that's fallen on the floor? Not followed here. Unless the food looks unpalatable (stepped on, dessicated or mouldy), back it goes on the plate.

This is not a recent development. Hearing the "for the first child, we religiously sterilized everything five times a day; by the third we took the dummy out of the dog's mouth and popped it straight in the kid's mouth" thing, I figured well, why bother sterilizing with the first child then?

Because the thing is, even apart from the theory that being too hygienic is leading to different kinds of illnesses, I just can't believe that our regular standards are so bad. I did boil/dishwasher both Téo and Lukan's bottles and dummies every now and again, but overall I couldn't see that soap and hot water would not do the job. Plus once they started putting everything in their mouths, I just couldn't believe the things in my house were germier than everything they were touching, sucking on and licking outside. Things like the black rubber around bus windows, for instance. And airports.

Plus we keep our floor clean! We don't wear shoes in the house! In fact, I am more concerned about not eating fallen food directly after the floors have been cleaned, because I don't like the idea of ingesting the chemicals in the cleaning products.

But tonight I went perhaps a bit too far.

I was on my own. The kids were hanging on to me, clamouring for food. I too was starving.

I was going as fast as I could. The meat was done, the veggies were nearly ready, I just had to heat up the fajitas.

Mah-mah mah-mah* screeched Lukan. Mummy I'm huuuunnnnggrryyyy whined Téo. I want to eat chicken fajitas!

I popped the two fajitas from the open packet into the frying pan, then went back to chopping capsicum. When I turned back to the fajitas, the bottom one was smoking.

Damn.

I tossed it into the bin (Mah-mah mah-mah! I want to eeeeaaattt!), cleaned the burnt bits off the pan (Mah-mah mah-mah! Mummy I want you to hurry up!), popped the second fajita back in (Mah-mah mah-mah! I want to eat nowwwww!), and went to the cupboard to get a new packet of fajitas.

There was no new packet of fajitas.

Damn damn damn.

Téo and I shared the first fajita (Lukan likes everything but the fajita). It wasn't enough.

I admit to being a bit frazzled. Lukan was still screeching mah-mah mah-mah** every minute or so, Téo was asking for more food, I was still very very hungry. And the idea of a fajita-less chicken fajita wasn't nearly as appetizing as a fajita-ed chicken fajita.

It's not like the garbage on top is actually dirty, I reasoned. It's stuff I threw away just before throwing away the burnt fajita. Plastic mostly.

So yes, I retrieved the fajita from the bin, scraped off the burnt bits, browned the other side, and shared it with Téo.

Mmmmmmm, full tummy.

But now that tummy is feeling a little rumbly. Perhaps I should pay a bit more attention to germs.

* More more... which he repeats whenever he wants something, starting with a polite tone but escalating to a screech if the demand is not met fast enough. I.e., immediately.

** Due to his habit of flinging food onto the floor, I only put a few pieces of food on his plate at a time. As soon as the last piece goes into his mouth he starts up with the mah-mah. Not very peaceful, but way less messy.