Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Calling June Cleaver!

After a long day of work last night, I stopped off at the grocery store to stock up for the week.  And this is exactly what I bought:

- 6 bags of frozen vegetable steamer packs
- 2 packs of pre-made chocolate protein shakes
- 5 boxes of organic prepared soup, boxed (because I have an aversion to soup of the canned persuasion)
- 1 bunch of bananas
- 1 large bottle of Belgian beer 

And that's it. 

A domestic goddess I am not.  

What did I do when I got home?  I popped one of those bags into the microwave and waited.  After 30 seconds I decided a potato was a necessary addition to meal.  So I scrubbed one up and got it ready to "bake" (aka poke 50 holes and nuke in the microwave à la college cuisine).  YUM.  And as I stabbed my delicious potato into oblivion, I heard the voice of my grandmother in the back of my mind say "and what is your husband going to eat?"

And then, for a brief second I panicked.  Oh my God, I'm going to be bad wife.

I find myself stuck between the old world and my modern existence.  To be fair, my mom raised me stand on my own two feet and taught me that I could be whatever I want when I grew up.  But, there was that conflicting message that came from the old country and every once in a (long) while, I hear the voices of the old guard.  "When are you going to learn to cook for your husband?  Who is going to teach your kids to clean, if you don't?"  

You get the point.  

So now, here I am, running head first into my late twenties and facing marriage.  And that voice is back, but I'm not listening. 

I don't cook.  At least not every day.  And I don't plan on it.  I clean when I need to, and I try to keep things neat.  But I will never befriend a bottle of bleach, mark my words. 

My phone rang just as I started to panic and it was the Bear.  His timing was perfect. So I let him have it, "oh my God, I'm going to suck as a wife. You're going to hate me because all I have to eat right now is steamed veggies and that's all I ever keep around except for wine and pasta. What are you going to eat?!"

And then he laughed at me (a lot), and asked me if I was nuts.  His response was "I like to cook.  Why are you worrying about this?  You like to cook with me, and if you don't want to help you don't have to.  And we can go to the grocery store together, so we both have stuff we want to eat."

I love that man.  Yes, he is a far better cook than me and he enjoys it.  Me?  I make a mean cocktail and decent baked goods.  And that's just fine for us.  

In the end, I was getting ahead of myself and letting these old school ideas of what a wife should be scare me into a whirlwind of doubt instead of being okay with the kind of wife I will be. Nothing needs to change about me, he knows what he's getting himself into.  

Phew...Irrational crisis averted. 

Anyone else find themselves worrying about what your life will be like after the wedding?  Even if it doesn't make much sense?

1 comment:

  1. I never, ever, ever cooked before I met my fiancé. While I've taken it up a bit (a la Rachel Ray recipes.. that's pretty much it), it's still not my forte. But he knows that, and he asked me to marry him regardless.. plus, he's just as happy with wine and a bowl of pasta (seriously!) as with anything "fancy" that I make. And I know your fiancé is the same way.. he knew what he was getting into, as you said ;)

    Personally, I'm not one for cleaning.. I hate dusting, and cleaning the bathroom seriously makes me gag. Fortunately, the man is a cleaning freak and he'd probably do it even if I didn't mind it, so it works out!