I made dinner last night. Very rare.
But it was our nine month anniversary and we thought the kids were going to be at their uncle’s, so I said I’d make my man dinner and we’d crack open a bottle of wine and get all crazy like a couple of kidless youngsters.
Well, plans changed, so I made dinner for the family. No biggie, but cooking for the kids limits me more than just cooking for Todd. So, I decided rather than getting all kinds of creative, I would make a relatively easy dinner.
I’m not good with nutrition. I don’t know which foods go together to help with digestion and which foods should be avoided with other foods. I just like food and I like a theme, so I put stuff together that I think works. Without thinking of the consequences.
So, dinner last night was red beans and rice, sausage, brussel sprouts (shut up, I love ‘em) and cornbread.
And as noted in the past, when I make dinner, by gawd, I make dinner. Complete with dessert (which was angel food cake, strawberries, vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup and whipped cream).
Do I really need to tell you where this is going?
At 11:00 last night, TBFE had some stomach cramps that probably gave him a good indication of what women go through every month. There were some gurgles that startled both of us and a few moanings that took the shape of “ah gawd”.
I felt so bad. I apologized over and over and finally said, “Maybe we should just stick with you making dinner. Maybe I shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen......”
Martha Stewart would be so ashamed of me.
Oddly enough, the kids love the red beans and rice and cornbread, and even had two helpings! Score for Rae-rae! They didn't care for the brussel sprouts, but that's okay. At least they tried them. I haven't heard how their stomachs are doing today.
Guess it's good thing I like to clean, huh?