Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Mess, Black Mess

Another glimpse into the life of this marriage with children.

Came home last night to the normal routine.  Littlest one is asleep, Wife is cleaning the house and Oldest one is all over me for attention.  I went in to start cooking dinner.  Yep, I work 50 hours a week (not including 25 on call hours!) and come home and cook every night! She knows she's a lucky lady!

I was cooking some pasta and had sliced up some fresh baked bread and put out oil and balsamic with herbs as a appetizer/snack while the rest cooked.  (No I didn't bake my own bread, just hit the store right as it came out of the oven...I'm no Martha)

I'd diced up my veggies and sausage and peeled my shrimp.  I was working on prepping everything else.  Wife had given Oldest some of the uncooked pasta.  They were little wagon wheels...gotta know your audience right? So she just kept on with "More Wheels Please" the whole time.  This is a habit she gleamed from my wife and I do not understand it.  Wife will eat dried spaghetti all the time.  Ramen in broccoli salad is about the only time I'm down with it.  Oh well, it doesn't hurt, but after five or six wheels I'd cut her off, no belly ache on my watch. 

So Wife had gone to rescue the screaming littlest one who's now awake in his cradle.  There was an incident.  One of those incidents where, as a parent, you realize the error of your ways almost immediately.  A scenario played out in my head but by the time I'd turned around it was too late.  All I got was "uh oh!"

So when Wife came back incident was over and taken care of...well mostly.

Wife: Baby doll, where are your pants?
Oldest: No pants.
Wife:  I see that.  Dorn, why is she pantless?
Me:  Ask your daughter.
Wife:  What happened to your pants?
Oldest:  Mess, Black Mess.
Wife: What?


Here's the What!  

That scenario I saw was when I took the bag of wheel shaped pasta she'd pulled down from one counter and moved it to the center of the produce and bread I'd compiled on another counter.  As I turned to stir the sauce, I pictured the bread knife flying off the cutting board as she tugged it for closer reach.  Followed by this!

Ignore the broader mess that is an active house with children and note the splatter.  You can even see where she was standing as there isn't a splatter mark in a pie slice shape.  Oh the things you notice thanks to CSI!

I have to give her this, at least it wasn't in her hair...olive oil and scalps really shouldn't mix unless medically instructed!  No more wheels for you!

2 comments:

  1. Hey, I'm also The Family Chef for my little trible!! My wife always gives me a hard time, though, about how long it takes me to cook... but I seldom hear any complaints about the quality!

    I like the "no pasta harmed" disclaimer. I'm actually in an uncharacteristically sour mood this morning (just a "wake up on the wrong side of the bed" a.m.) and that gave me a much-needed chuckle. :)

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  2. Happy to be of service! I can't claim the chef hat, so to say, isn't by choice. I enjoy it. It'd also be nice every once an awhile to have an option other than take out when I don't want to cook.

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