Things No One Tells You About Married Life: Part I

Food.

You need to eat it, and someone needs to make it. And that someone is me.

I first began dreaming of a Williams-Sonoma-esque life towards the end of my engagement when gorgeous kitchen electrics and lovely everyday dishes started arriving. I can do this, I thought. These dishes and this mixer must surely bring about my success in the kitchen, even though I have spent the last six years heating versus actually cooking. How can things as beautiful as these possibly fail?

Oh, so easily, that's how.

In a cruel twist of fate, the kitchen accoutrements that were supposed to turn me into a cook started turning on me. I have the bruises, burns, and scrapes to prove it. On both hands.

Last Tuesday I made a cake for the neighbors who just had a baby, but not without first getting my hand caught in the hand mixer while it was on. My fingers still hurt.

On Thursday I baked the oh-so-delicious pre-made pepperoni pizza my husband and I purchased at Safeway. As if sensing my un-involvement with the creation of said pizza, the 400 degree pan burned my thumb as I was taking it out of the oven. I have a nice-sized blister, despite the hours I spent with ice on the burn.

You should know when you get married that having nice, new things to use will make you want to use them, regardless of your inexperience.

You should know that you may at first experience some difficulty if heretofore your specialties have included Chick-fil-a and toast.

But no one ever tells you that lovingly removing those prized registry items from their boxes and placing them on your neatly-lined kitchen shelves does not a relationship make.

Respect and trust are not only essential between a husband and a wife, but also between a woman and her appliances. You must respect your mixer, and you must also earn its trust. No one ever tells you that.