I had to get out of the kitchen. Blind Freddy could see he wanted to make dinner, and I was
only getting in the way by ‘helping’.
The Architect has complained about this before. “You never let me cook dinner” he
says. And truly – that just stumps
me. Isn’t that what ANYONE would
want? To NEVER cook dinner? But then I remember how much I enjoy
cooking, and I must accept that other people are the same. And one of those ‘other people’ is married to me.
For as long as I was sitting in the kitchen, scrutinising
everything he’s doing, (right down to the way he’s chopping the capsicum), it
wasn’t going to be a happy
experience for him. So I
had to get out.
I must clarify: I don’t like being like this. I want to desperately be one of those
women who can let the man of the house help, and not criticise the way he
helps. But I’m not. But I am trying to be! I can at least acknowledge when I’m
being a shrew and this is why I have made my exit.
And as I type, I can almost feel the relief in the
kitchen. He’s happier. He’s moving around freely and making as
much noise and mess as he likes and I am none the wiser.
Sitting at the computer, I'm smiling. I'm heading in the right direction to being less of a shrew and being able to let go. Plus I don't have to cook dinner.
Everyone's a winner!
Everyone's a winner!
Image(s): FreeDigitalPhotos.net
