And a Coconut Cake for the Lady

For my husband, romance is in the details.  Don’t worry- I’m not going to go into a Penthouse Forum rundown.  I just mean, if he’s going to do something for you, he’s going to go all out- no shortcuts.

My birthday is on Monday, but since he is off today, he is making me dinner and dessert.  Sky is the limit- whatever I want.  What I truly want is an easy day.  I don’t want him slaving in the kitchen all day, cooking a complex meal, because that inevitably means, I’m watching the kids.  I love my kids, but entertaining them can be a chore in itself sometimes.  I just want something simple and delicious, with enough time left over to relax.

On the weekends, Ben usually goes for a bike ride in the morning, and I run in the afternoon.  It is pretty sad that exercising now counts as “free time” but such is the nature of parenthood.  I had intentions of spending the morning completing chores, so we could start the weekend with a clean house.  But the boys were in no mood to self entertain, so by the time Ben returned from his ride, little had been accomplished other than increasing the amount of mess to clean up.

Ben, being the wonderful husband he is, took a quick shower and asked what I needed him to do.  I said I wanted him to vacuum the floors and then get the kids out of the house, so I could mop.  I did not make him privy to the fact that I was REALLY looking forward to mopping.  Despite multiple mop jobs during the week, the tile was positively gross.  I went and bought a new mop head, and was waiting for the weekend when I would have enough time to do a proper job.  Usually, I am rushing to clean the dirtiest spots before little feet walk across them.  It is super lame, but I really just wanted a clean floor.  The new mop head had been staring at me from the counter all morning, whispering over and over again, “Use me.  Uuuuuse me.”

Anticipating that Ben would quickly vacuum and scoot out of the house with the kids, I started running hot water in the sink so I would be ready to mop the second they left.  Ben sees me do this and asks “oh, should I get the kids out of here now so you can mop?”

I immediately go into bitchy wife mode.  “Noooo! You should vacuum” silently adding the words like I asked in my mind.  Ben starts to retort, thinks better of it, and goes to get the vacuum.  Again, Ben is not a half-asser.  He does not get the majority of the dirt, so that it passes as clean.  He moves chairs and tables, gets behind the curtains.  In the meantime, I clean the bathrooms, wipe down the kitchen, dust, and start a load of laundry.  After what seems like a couple of hours, he finally finishes.  Great!  I finally get to mop!

Not so fast, lady.  He has to make a shopping list.  I settled on chicken tacos and coconut cake for my meal.  He is a pro at chicken tacos, so I don’t need to give him any pointers there.  For the cake, I advise that I’m happy with a cake mix, just keep it simple.  But Ben would never do that.  He wants to show me how much I mean to him, and that means a cake from scratch.  He gets online to find a recipe.  Around ten minutes later, he peeks his head into the room where I am folding clothes.  “Do we happen to have coconut flour or self-rising flour?”  I reply no, and then tell him to use the recipe in the Amy Sedaris cookbook.  It is simple, delicious, and requires no out of the norm ingredients.

I finish putting away the clothes and come out to check on his progress.  “Does that recipe look easier?”

“No, it’s in metric.”

Metric?  What is he talking about.  I have no idea how, but he has found some hidden recipe in the cookbook, the complete opposite of the simple five ingredient recipe I was referring to- I think gremlins may be at work.  Annoyed, I find the correct recipe, and anticipate that the matter is settled.  Wrong again.

“Does she have a recipe for frosting?”

Internally, I scream It’s fucking powdered sugar and cream cheese! Who needs a recipe?!!

Externally, I respond “Use your mom’s recipe.”

Finally, finally, finally, the shopping list is complete.  And after a mere twenty minutes of getting snacks, going potty, and finding shoes, the house is now mine!  I’m proudly gazing at my sparkling floor, knowing I have just mere moments before it will once again be sticky and black.

I am almost at the end of my blog so that’s done for the day.

Hmmm.  What should I do now?  Not used to a quiet house.  What’s keeping those guys?

Ok, he may drive me a little crazy sometimes.  I’m sure I drive him a lot crazy.  But how many husbands are going to help clean the house, whisk away the kids, and cook dinner and dessert.  Sure sure, you could say it’s because it’s my birthday.  But the truth is, he does this every weekend.  I know, you are not re-evaluating every other post I’ve written and wondering why I bitch so much.  I admit it, I’m high maintenance.

I’m lucky.  I snagged one of the good ones.  So if he needs a few extra moments to find just the right recipe, I guess I can put my obsessive need to mop in check.  I get to have my cake and eat it too.

 

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