Thursday, September 23, 2010

Love is a Frozen Chicken Nugget

Good Morning Readers,

Before you start thinking that I have some sort of unsavory love affair going on with the goods in my freezer, please let me stop you there. The topic I’d like to discuss today utilizes chicken nuggets solely for the purpose of explaining one of the important reasons I love my husband….
     I should start by letting you know, as I don’t believe I’ve actually mentioned it before, that I putter off to work every night after my husband gets home. Most of my adventures happen during the day with the twins, so work never seems that relevant, but last night prompted me to fill you in with that detail.   
     You see, when I venture out of the house each evening, my dear husband takes over the night shift all by himself. This means... he entertains, feeds, diapers, pajamas, and tucks in the piglets all by his lonesome. Before tonight, I haven’t really mentioned it, for the simple reason that I take his amazing dedication for granted, and get too caught up in the little annoying things like piles of boxers in the bathroom, incessant talk of fantasy football, and selective hearing (an entirely different post in itself).
     Last night, as I dragged my weary carcass from my vehicle, into the house, I could only meditate on what I’d eat for dinner, and how fast I could roll into bed after that. I greeted my husband and jumped in the shower; after which, I yanked on some pajamas and headed to the kitchen. Deciding he was hungry, my husband followed...
     As we have no groceries in the house (we put that off to the last possible moment before starvation), he and I found ourselves routing through expired containers and plastic bags filled with things that should’ve been in a land fill ages ago. At the end of our searchings, we managed to pool one frozen Chinese dinner, a few French fries, and a meager serving of chicken nuggets. I claimed the frozen dinner, and he popped the nuggets into the oven. Upon retrieving my dinner from the microwave, however, I discovered that it harbored a distinctly freezer burnt quality. That, and I managed to spill half of it on the counter and scooped it back in, producing something that looked like fertilizer in a cardboard box.
     Wearily, I turned my attention towards my husband's chicken nuggets. " I can't eat this pile of nasty rice", I said. "You'll need to split those with me." Staring at the 10 little nuggets, and then looking back at me, my exhausted husband just said "Sure". Granted, before that, he had tried to convince me that our counter was perfectly clean and I should just eat the pukey Chinese, but, tired and starving.. he handed over half of his tiny dinner anyway. This was done without chastisement. He even chatted with me about how my evening had been as he divided everything up. These simple, selfless actions, made me remember why I'd married this laundry challenged, football obsessed man in the first place. It also caused my memory to jog back to a particular tipsy wine evening that had prompted me to blurt out to my dear husband that, "Marriage is really just a sleep over with your best friend every night." With lines like that, I'm pretty surprised that I'm married at all.
     So yes readers, love really is a frozen...err...maybe cooked chicken nugget. Until tomorrow, enjoy the small acts of love. And remember, if it does look like fertilizer, you don't have to eat it.

Paige