The kitchen fiasco

Someone was kind enough to ask about my husband in the comments before. I know thousands of you are reading this blog but just don't know whether to comment. But anyway, yes, I have quite the husband. I'm going to tell you more about him because I *know* people reading this blog want to know all the details about him that are fit to print (or blog, or whatever...).

Now, this won't be one of those husband-bashing blogs. I have read some that practically tell you that the fellow's mommy still brushes his teeth for him or the latest "I can't believe my husband didn't buy me a dozen roses on Valentine's Day. The JERK! **Sob!!**". I cringe when I read those. Actually what's worse are the COMMENTS on those blogs. "Well said, Whynee! You go girl!" and "OH, my husband was even worse because he bought me a new vacuum instead of the bracelet I asked for... waaah."

But I have a great guy for a husband. He would practically die to get the children their dinner cooked EXACTLY RIGHT. (He does rather much favour his own mother in that respect, whereas **I** would serve chocolate for "variety." The kids love us both LOL!!) Just last night, dh decided that burgers HAD to be served at the table. Nevermind that four of the five children were not going to eat the burgers; he was going to cook something nice for our oldest son (I'll call him "Patrick" here).

Dh is a brave and mighty warrior in the kitchen. He served I think four different dishes for the four older boys who actually eat table food. He had the microwave and the stove going. He had stuff out on the counters he was combining and fixing. He had the burner going. He got the burgers out onto a plate.

Then he dropped that heavy plate directly onto his foot! It shattered into a lot of pieces. He bruised himself pretty mightily and could have broken a bone. And the meat was halfway done, so the grease got ALL OVER the floor, making picking up shards rather difficult. We kind of smeared the broom around over things and figured after dinner it would get a better going-over.
Next dh got hot chili spice in his eye. He limped all over the kitchen in pain and I tried to help him get a band-aid eyepatch on. Then I accidentally stepped on his other foot. I forget what happened to his other eye (I think onions), but eventually he was pretty well blind but pushing me away from the burner so that HE could make the dinner that night.

Patrick better &*$# well like his *&*@# burger, is what I *thought* I heard...

Dinner actually went fine. I don't tend to eat with the kids though. For some reason things don't go well when I do, and I've learned not to do that except at times like Thanksgiving or whatever where it's obligatory. Mostly because there are too many things to do and to get during the course of the meal and it's just easier to wait and have some peace.

Dh is fine now by the way. I'll bet his foot is still bruised though.