The phone is ringing.
It’s my husband, calling as he always does as he drives home from work. It’s likely been a long, hard day. It always is, and I say that with sympathy, not annoyance. He loves his job, but it takes a toll. He works in stocks and investments and it’s tax time.
I pick up the phone.
“We don’t own a broiler pan and we don’t have any foil!” I whine miserably as my greeting.
There’s a pause for only a split second. “I don’t really care.”
“I’m stuck in rush hour traffic and you expect me to care about that?” He seemed vaguely amused, but also exasperated with me.
“No. But I was going to make steak! I’m trying to be a good housewife so you won’t make me go back to work.”
“…I usually cook steak in a skillet.” Now he was definitely amused. (I hope.)
“Eww why? I was gonna broil it.”
“Why would you boil steak?”
“Broil. Brrrrrr-roil. Brrrrrrrrrrrroil.”
“I don’t know how to cook it in a skillet. Then again, I don’t know how to broil it either… But there’s Google!”
“I’ll show you when I get home.”
“…You’re going to end up cooking the steaks, aren’t you?” I was disappointed and it could be heard in my tone.
“I’ll make the potatoes?”
“Well, that’s something…”
“We really need a broiler pan…”
I married my best friend on March 28 and since then I’ve realized there’s been a horrible mistake. Not because he wasn’t the right man to marry, but because the poor fool doesn’t seem to have realized what he’s signed on for!
Okay, that may be a little dramatic. But I married him March 28. Between April 1 and 3, I moved myself and my four-year-old daughter into his apartment. On April 14, I lost my main job. This weekend has been full of what’s felt like chaos so it wasn’t until last night that he and I were able to really finalize what we’re going to do now.
I still have a second job and it’s the same job, but from home and less pay and fewer hours, plus a different employer. We’ll be fine on his income, though, so for the time being I’m going to be focusing on being a housewife and mom.
Of course, I don’t know how to cook.
Honestly, I find myself at the desperate point where I have no idea what I’m doing or how I’m going to do it. I can’t cook. I admit to a profound laziness more often than is healthy and hate cleaning. But now I need to learn how to wife.
My mother helped me plan meals for the week and took me to the grocery store. I had every intention to make steak and impress my husband with my housewife skills. But then when he got home, he wasn’t even hungry and, truthfully, neither was I.
It’s 8:04 and I’m eating Cocoa Krispies for dinner.
I’m off to a good start…