A hard rain was falling that night. Our children were in bed, my husband was upstairs, and I was walking into our kitchen, fully swaddled in my pajamas and comfy robe. I was enjoying listening to the rain hitting my roof. It looked to be a peaceful night, a rare and beautiful thing when one is a busy mom.

Suddenly, I heard something buzz, then turned toward the sound, which seemed to be coming from our old, double oven. The time clock was flashing, yet our electricity hadn’t gone out. As I stood in front of my oven, puzzled, it erupted in flames, and the flames did not seem insignificant. I turned and ran up the stairs, calling to my husband to come down immediately.

We turned off the breaker, and the flames died down. We discovered that we’d had a slight roof leak, which entered the top of the oven, near the controls.

By the next day, my husband was thinking we needed a new oven. I was not unhappy. We redid our kitchen when we moved in, and the only thing that remained was a small, old oven, only 24 inches wide. My heart leapt: I was getting a new double oven, and this one would be 30 inches across. I texted family and friends that we would actually have room to warm everyone’s casseroles and dishes this year!

Within months, our dishwasher went down. I’d picked out that one, so saying “goodbye” was a more somber affair. I’d done thousands of bottles in that dishwasher, tons of sippy cups, and little utensils. It had held in there for 14 years with triplets, plus one. That’s surely 28 years in dishwasher life.

Before I had kids, I wasn’t that interested in appliances. I liked certain amenities and finishes, but I now consider my appliances to be in the category of “besties.” Now I know why my mom hated to say goodbye to her dilapidated Maytag washer. As a teenager, I used to pray it would break down because it was so old, the white paint chipping off. I think it finally died in its third decade. That never happens now.

The final, sickly appliance this year was a fairly new washing machine. It went down twice in four months. Worse, the first available repair appointment was six days after the drain stopped working. This delay might have been merely disappointing, but it became a crisis since our kids had just started back to school and activities. Even on the day of the repair, the fact that we had a warranty, which they’d not been aware of, became a problem. The part would take a day to come in, but they couldn’t come back for another week.

At that point, my husband and I conferenced by phone. Either he called the manager, or I would tweet up a storm. Cooler heads prevailed, and the manager worked with us. Thankfully, we are not using a laundromat, nor is our babysitter asking us if she can take home some clothes to wash at her house. One of my older friends at church did suggest that I get the boys a wash tub and scrub board, then teach them a thing or two. I asked if she would like to supervise. Heaven knows, I get tired of overseeing a household.

Not long ago, my oldest child began suggesting we get smart tech to oversee some household requests. He wanted us to get a digital voice assistant.

I’m just not ready for a new relationship in my life, not right now, Alexa, Echo, Google “girl,” or whatever your name is. I’ve got too many helpers in my life right now. Don’t call me; I’ll call you.

Betsy Singleton Snyder is a pastor, writer and blogger. She is the author of “Stepping on Cheerios: Finding God in the Chaos and Clutter of Life,” and blogs at WomenadeStand.com, a sassy and spiritual spot to dish on the tartest and sweetest pieces of life, stand up together, and reach out in love.

Betsy and her husband, Dr. Vic Snyder, who formerly served in the U.S. House of Representatives, live in Little Rock with their four sons.