If you read last week’s blog, you know that I’ve dubbed Wednesdays as “Wifey Wednesday”. This will also be known as the day that girlfriends, wives and mothers (to babies and fur babies) can share in some embarrassing or heartfelt experiences, to laugh with one another or bring comfort to others who might be going through the same thing.
I have some seriously embarrassing moments I’ve stockpiled for this blog series, but I’m going to start from the beginning for any of the newly cohabitating people reading this.
“I can do it all.” Well, maybe that’s a stretch, but I was so darn eager to attempt to be awesome at everything in the beginning. It’s not that Justin expected any of this, but I’m just awesome and I was going to prove that to myself. (Those were my thoughts when we first moved in together.)
Please tell me I’m not the only one who attempted to learn a few new recipes to please your partner or to be the Susie Homemaker doing it all. I was a little show off and I’ve learned now that gets you nowhere. 😉
Multitasking in the kitchen did not come easy to me. I can remember one very laid back dinner night, I was chit chatting on the phone with my sister, folding laundry (which I rarely do now), opening up mail and popping a good ol’ frozen pizza into the oven. Talking, cleaning, reading, cooking…do you know where this is going? Twenty minutes goes by and the oven beeps and I pull out our delicious pie and that’s when I realized my mistake. That round piece of cardboard you’re supposed to remove the pizza from BEFORE you put it into the oven, well, I cooked that too! How I did not start a fire is beyond me, but let me tell you how hard I worked to cut that pizza from the cardboard. Yeah, impossible. It kind of tasted like your one year anniversary cake with that aftertaste of cardboard or maybe IT WAS cardboard. Carla’s Cooking Tip #1: Remove the pizza cardboard.
So, after I recovered from that life lesson, I got brave and started testing out new recipes. Baked chicken this and baked chicken that. Dry baked chicken was more like it. Months later, I’m cooking another fabulous dinner, this time NOT frozen pizza, and the oven beeps. I’m looking everywhere for the oven mitts to remove the dish. Justin is looking everywhere for the oven mitts. (These were the days when we had exactly two oven mitts. The essentials to living on your own.) Where the heck are the darn oven mitts?! No time to spare or our dinner will be overcooked. I opened the oven door and immediately smoke filled our little apartment! The smoke detectors started going off that loud, obnoxious, embarrassing noise. We both frantically ran around opening windows, grabbing the dish out of the oven with a hand towel and trying our best to get the detectors to STOP SCREAMING AT US!! We get back to the kitchen and notice the casserole dish was sitting lopsided. That’s when we realized the rubber part of the oven mitt had pretty much melted to the bottom of the pan! (face palm) Carla’s Cooking Tip #2: When cooking, account for the oven mitts like a surgeon accounts for their instruments.
The moral of the story is you can never burn down a house if:
a.) you don’t have me help you cook
b.) you focus on one task at a time like removing the pizza cardboard/packaging
c.) you hold onto those darn oven mitts like they’re gold!
d.) resort to a good ol’ bowl of cereal.
Do you have something funny, heartfelt or real you want to share on the blog about being a girlfriend, wifey or mom? Contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org.