Trick or Treat

A few weeks ago, Hubby had a photo gig first thing in the morning. The plan was that I would take charge of the noise makers and meet him at church. So there we were, zooming down 101 to get to church, when I thought that Zoe was being rather quiet. I looked at her via the rear view mirror, and as I looked, I heard this gurgling of fluids: She had barfed. Immediately, Aidan covered his face and screamed, "It smells!" I tried to keep Zoe calm and sped along to get to church. There was no utility to stop regardless, clearly, I needed a water source for this.

Anyway, Zoe was cleaned up (it was a miracle that I had a spare outfit for her- not common scenario here), we went to church (we kept her with us instead of sending her to the nursery, just in case) and Hubby took the kids home immediately after church. As he left, he said, "I will make lunch." I thought he meant, "I will heat up leftovers." You see, I had really wanted to eat a particular soup item in the fridge.

I drove home, and upon entering the house, I realized this: Hubby was not heating up leftovers. He was making a WHOLE NEW meal. Yes, a rational, logical person would be very appreciative. But this wife was not particularly rational or logical. This wife wanted that soup! So I pouted and eventually admitted that I was, in fact, acting like a baby.

Then I realized this: It is hard for my Hubby EVERYDAY. He never knows, upon coming home after a hard day of work, whether it would be a trick or a treat on the table. Would it be scrambled eggs with tofu (something I had made for him about 12 years ago, yes, it was really, really, gross) or would it be a five course meal.

He reassured me that he usually found treats at home, in his words, "Any food is a treat." Still, it became clear to me that I like to control what appears on the table. Thus, it is a good thing that in the division of labor around here, I got the kitchen duty.