Thursday, January 10, 2013

I saw an old acquaintance out the other day, and after a few minutes of catching up, she told me the real news: her husband had recently left her for another woman. Ouch. When we parted ways, she said "It stinks. Do what you have to do to make sure it never happens to you."

Holiday baking. It's that time of year where I spend hours in the kitchen and eat too much raw dough, too many treats, and too many carbs. This year, in addition to a few things I planned for, my husband decided that he wanted to make Buckeyes. "Perfect", I responded happily. "I just downloaded a recipe for them!"

Nope, he said. I want to make my mom's.

Now, here's my secret confession (just as an aside, don't you ever wonder about those secret confessions that reality stars make? Because as soon as the other members of the show watch the episode, then their secret is kinda out, making it not so secret anymore.). Anyhow, it goes like this: I am perfectly fine with him making his mother's recipe, but (and it's a big BUT), she has perfected these recipes over time and the directions aren't always as specific as I need them to be. Why this matters to me when he was the one who wanted to make them can only point to the fact that I enjoy, well, let's say I enjoy being in charge. Saying I have control issues sounds, I don't know, so harsh. (However, they are delicious and I can understand why he wanted to go with her tried-and-true recipe rather than mine). So, I tried to convince him to make the recipe I had, but he was having none of that. It started at the grocery store, where he said "I'm going to go get the ingredients I need" and I followed him, saying "Don't get the peanut butter with the hydrogenated oils...", my voice trailing at the end as he walked away. Then, while he was trying to make said Buckeyes, they weren't turning out quite as he expected, and I smugly thought "Um, yeah, shoulda made mine..." (realizing, of course, that the recipe I had could have turned out to be no good).

It was then that my friend's words came back to me: Do what you have to do to make sure it never happens to you. 

Does he need my careful eye looking over his shoulder, ready to make suggestions and point out mistakes?  Nope. And I don't like it when people do that to me, either.

Do what you have to do to make sure it never happens to you.

Even when making Buckeyes.

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