September 2, 2009

A Chef and His Lawn Mower

My husband, Adam, is a gifted chef, and when someone hears of his occupation their immediate reaction is, “Oh, you're so lucky.” Their dreamy tones and smiles of admiration make it hard to destroy their visions of me being served three scrumptious meals a day by my attractive man (who looks like a thirty year old Nick Jonas). Unfortunately this is not the case.

In reality, I’m quite lucky to have him home for a meal, let alone cook me anything. So for those who don’t know, being a chef’s wife is not for the faint of heart. A chef’s schedule is much like that of a doctor or police officer, but without the glory, respect, or paycheck!

Adam leaves at 10:30 am everyday, (There is a lot of prep work that goes into the lovely meal you devour at a restaurant.) and he usually doesn’t return until 11 pm, if not later. On weekends it is always much later. He works every weekend, every holiday, and on average, six days week.

You are probably thinking, “Hey, he has time to make a great breakfast.” Again, I am laughing on the inside. I hate to tell you, but the man doesn’t wake up until 10!

I don’t want to make it sound like he’s never home. He does have one day off a week, and on special occasions, two; and those are the days he makes up for all the time he’s gone. He’s an attentive father and loving mate. Unfortunately, there are a lot of things that also require his manly attention around our house. Like the grass for instance, he refuses to let me run the lawn mower, but he is rarely home to manage our tiny patch of lawn. This summer there were a few times I looked out back and expected to see a tiger popping its head out of what looked like its natural habitat. On multiple occasions I caught disapproving glances from neighbors as they scanned over my untidy yard.

Lesson 3: unruly grass = white trash

Truthfully, I wasn’t too bothered by the jungle. Sorry neighbors, but I will always pick quality time with my husband and kids over mown grass any day!

No comments:

Post a Comment