He Means Well

Tom offered to make dinner tonight.

I think it was because I made him feel guilty for sleeping so long. I had told him last night that I wanted him to be up when Tommy saw his Easter goodies. He assured me that all I had to do was wake him up and that hed be there. Problem was, when this morning came around I nudged him a few times and he merely rolled over and grunted something impolite at me.

So I left and slammed the door.

He apologized when he woke up and swore he didnt even remember me trying to get him up. (How he couldnt remember me shaking his arm and hitting him over the head with a pillow is beyond me.)

He could tell I was still upset and then he announced that he was going to make dinner.

"Thats right, Ill make the dinner, you just relax", Tom said, looking quite proud of himself. (I half expected him to pound on his chest like an ape.)

But heres the problem: he has no idea where any utensil is despite having lived here for almost three years.

I had just snuggled onto the couch and was about to crack open my book (Tommy was busy watching Dora) when Tom called out,
"Uh Amber? Wheres the pot for the noodles?"

I sighed and shut my book.

"Where all the other pots and pans are, Tom!"

I heard him rifling through a cupboard.

"I dont see it!"

I stood up, finger stuck in the book to keep my place and stepped into the kitchen. Tom, who was bent over, head nearly all the way into the cupboard heard me enter and went,

"What are you doing? Sit down, sit down!"

"I was going to show you where the pot is," I explained.

Tom came out of the cupboard. "I found it. Dont worry! He held the pot over his head like a trophy. You go sit down and relax." He wagged a finger at me like I was a child. "I mean it. Go relax."

I went back out to the couch. Sat down. Cracked open my book and

"Mommy! Mommy look! I upside down!" Tommy announced. Sure enough he was upside down against the couch. His face had a mask of concentration over it as he kept himself balanced.

I smiled at him. "Yes I see that. Very good, honey." My eyes drifted down to my book. I read two sentences and then

"Where are the tongs?" Tom called out.

I shut my book.

"In the drawer where the silverware is!" I shouted.

I heard the drawer open and close. "Okay. Cool. I hope youre relaxing in there!"

Sure.

Then I started to wonder if he knew what spices to put into the sauce.

Im not anal or anything but I add certain spices to give the sauce an added kick.

"Tom?"

Silence.

Sometimes I think Tom might be partially deaf.

"TOM?"

"WHAT?"

"Did you put the minced garlic in the sauce?"

Silence.

So I got up. Again. Went into the kitchen and Tom was putting in the minced garlic. He rolled his eyes when he saw me.

"Why arent you sitting down? He kissed me on my nose. Sit down!"

"I just seeing if---"

"Go sit down!"

Back to the couch I went. I opened my book. Again. I started to read. Again.

"Wheres the colander? "

I closed my book. "In the cupboard with the crock pot!"

Back to my book.

"Wheres the lid to the pan?"

Oh for craps sake!

"Oh for craps sake, Tom! Where all the pots and pans are. Where else would it be?" I snapped angrily.

"You dont have to yell. It was a simple question. Geez," I heard Tom say.

I actually managed to read an entire paragraph when something was shoved into my mouth. Noodles. Tom put noodles into my mouth.

"Are they ready? Im never sure when the noodles are ready," Tom said standing over me.

I swallowed. "Not yet. The noodles are still crunchy. A few more minutes."

Tom went back into the kitchen. I went back to my book.

"Wheres the bowl Tommy eats from?"

I angrily snapped the book closed. "Where they always are, Tom. You know what, just let me--"

"No you stay seated in there! I got this!"

I guess he eventually found it because I didnt hear a word for two blissful minutes. Then he was back with more noodles.

"Is it ready yet?" he asked, balancing the slippery noodles on a wooden spoon.

I set my book down. Stood up. Took the noodles and said, "You know what, Tom? Do you know how to tell if the noodles are ready?"

(Tom was looking at me like I had gone insane. One eyebrow had cocked up and I could tell he was about to question the annoyance in my voice.)

"You do this!" And with that I threw the noodles against the wall.

"WOW COOL!" Tommy shouted and laughed.

Tom probably did think I was insane at that point. His mouth drooped open in surprise and his eyes focused on the spaghetti, which was now stuck to our wall.

"Um....um" Tom sputtered. "Why did you just throw FOOD at our wall? he finally said when he found his voice."

I threw my hands up in the air. "So youd leave me alone. The noodles are sticking to the wall, that means they're done. Do that for future reference."

Tom walked back into the kitchen muttering, "I'm not about to throw food at our wallI live in a mad house, I tell you..."

He was trying to do a good deed with cooking me dinner. It's the thought that counts.

Though I would have preferred it if he had done the dishes too.