On Saturday Hubs and I went out for dinner to celebrate his birthday.
Other babysitter preparations include ensuring that the children are bathed and fed prior to her arrival. (Sometimes it is just easier to stay home and
Just kidding about the Benadryl. It doesn't work on my boys.
Hubs happened to be off from work this weekend. Foolishly, I assumed that he would assist with Operation Date Night Readiness. Unfortunately, his idea of assisting is to sleep-watch football while the boys fashion shanks MacGyver-style from the contents of the recycling bin.
I spent the better half of the afternoon
Me: Could you help me out with the boys’ dinner while I get spruced up?
Hubs: Uh, I guess so. What do we have to feed them?
(This is where you, the reader, shall be amazed by my culinary talents and child rearing expertise.)
Me: Z wants soup and J wants chicken nuggets.
Hubs: How do I do that?
Me: The oven is pre-heated. Put the chicken nuggets in the oven. Then nuke the soup.
Hubs: Uh, the oven says 350 degrees. What do I put them on? How does the microwave work? What plates do they like? What do they want to drink? Where is the soup? How long does the soup take? How do I heat it? Where do they sit? Who are these children? Where is my ass?
Me: (flat-ironing my hair, jumping up and down to get my Spanx on) BEEEEEP (Extend this for approximately 2 minutes.)
(That dialogue was censored to protect the innocence of my sheltered readers. Use your imagination and your own marriages to re-create my response.)
I got him all straightened out and wiped the sweat off my brow. (Seriously, getting into Spanx is a workout!) A few minutes later, I smelled something burning.
I will spare you the details of what ensued. Suffice it to say that Hubs was “just getting ready to check” the nuggets and had no idea:
1. How long they had been in the oven.
2. How long they should have been in the oven.
3. That the oven has a timer for these purposes.
Now you know why I drank a bottle of Pinot Grigio at dinner. And why I don’t go out more often.
19 comments:
Hahaha, I love this Tracie! My husband loves to cook so I don't have to deal with this part of marriage but oh...so many others. This was great!
OMG! That man is too coddled! He better hope nothing ever happens to you - he'd starve to death.
Great post:D
Is that why you dislike the in-laws - they created that monster? ;)
This is great. Except.... it's like looking into a glass ball and seeing my future. Scary...
I am so glad, one of my dating criteria was a man that cooked. Period. I didn't get past the application unless it said, I love to COOK! HA HA HA.
Very funny! At least you got out. :-) Spandex sounds painful!
This is exactly why I have been on one date in the last three years.
Spanx sound dangerous. Also, I fear that if I had kids I would be asking the same questions as your hubs (what do they eat, etc) cause it baffles me how people can live on goldfish crackers and cheerios for the first 2 years of their lives. Have a great weekend!
hahaahahahaahah!!!
Oh man. Also, this is why I just say "Make 'em PB&J and chips". Not only because I'm uber healthy but because no cooking is involved. If you place it on napkins, it's even easier cleanup. Except for the crumbs and peanut butter and jelly smears on the ceiling. Those are a pain to clean.
seriously, if my husband didn't know his way around the kitchen (for the kids anyway) i'd totally be in a mental institution. getting him to understand the the entire first floor is NOT a laundry basket is a different story.
YEs, we have that same conversation here at my home. Sigh.
Sounds like my husband. And precisely why we rarely venture from the nest. And the whole babysitter thing? I'm totally the same...house has to be clean. I don't want them going home to tell their mothers what a pig stye we live in.
I heart stirfry. She's awesome, indeed. :)
My husband really doesn't know what he's doing in the kitchen most of the time. Granted, neither do I.
ahahahahahahha! Well fortunately my husband knows how to run the microwave and the coffee maker...but sadly knows little else...and, I must have my house spickety span too before anyone comes over...which, is also why we don't go out much anymore...that and the fact that I make him take me somewhere where there are not giant screen t.v.'s....psh
I always wish that I could take a shower AFTER I put my spanx on. It is a workout and it always makes me sweat!
I have a pretty good idea what you bleeped from the conversation....
My husband is a better cook than me. I'm getting better, I only ruin dinner about once a month now.
BTW...Tracie's husband needs a spanking and not the good kind!
I don't know about the husband of the commenter above; I've heard about these husbands who cook. My house sounds like Tracie's though. It's amazing how these men can figure out complicated things and get stuck on the little stuff like oven timers!
Aren't husbands the greatest?
My husband is an awesome cook. Until I ask him to cook.
If he hasn't volunteered himself to cook he spends the entire night saying "How long do I cook these potatos?"
Me: "What does the package say?"
Him: "GOD, I thought you'd KNOW. Remind me not to ask you for a tiny bit of HELP ever again."
Lather, rinse, repeat.
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