The “Honey Don’t You Ever Do” List

I woke up the other morning to the smell of sauce cooking.  At first I thought it was a dream.  A dream where I was literally in heaven, hanging out with my grandparents, old Kaye making some spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, a dinner that my mom and my siblings and I would probably arrive at the exact time she was about to put the pasta on and weasel ourselves into a Friday night invitation.    Then I woke a little more and realized it wasn’t a dream.  Then I thought “mom is here?” and I remembered that she had visited from eight hours away just a couple weeks ago, so that’s not likely.  I came to complete my wakefulness and horror set in.  The horror of realizing that I did NOT put sauce on before I fell asleep after working an overnight shift.  The horror that meant only one thing – my husband had started the sauce.   Dum , DUM, DUUUUUUUMMMMM!!!!   I quickly jumped out of bed, threw on some pants and socks and, while I was nearly hyperventilating, managed to make my way to the kitchen without screaming obscenities all the way down the hall.   After all, we have been together for 13 years, perhaps he has paid attention to this delicate process and did everything the exact way I have dozens of times before in the 10 years that we have lived together.  It smelled good, I have to give him that.  Before I greeted him or my two beautiful daughters, I ran straight to the stove, lifted the cover and stirred.  It smelled good, that was a good sign.  You see, us Italians don’t cook according to recipes.  We cook according to smell and texture.

The Mr. of the house mosey-ed on into the kitchen, with two pretty little girls at his heels.  The little one ran up to me and hugged my leg, I patted her head.  The bigger one gave me a “what’s up, ma?” look and sat at the table to color.   Then I looked expectantly at my husband: “well, what happened here?”  “I didn’t know when you were getting up” was his reply “the tomatoes had defrosted and were just sitting there, I know sauce has to cook all day, so I started the tomatoes.”   Yes, people, these were garden-grown tomatoes.  They are gold, and they only last a few months in my house.  So, naturally, I inquire as to his process.

“I put the tomatoes in and added a little garlic.”  And as he says “garlic,” he makes a shaking gesture with his hand.  I ask if he is indicating garlic powder – “yes, garlic powder.”  I nearly cry.  “So, you’re telling me that in that pot of tomatoes are: tomatoes … and garlic powder?” “Yes, that is correct.”  Ok, showtime!  I will not give away my recipe because no two Italian women cook sauce the same.  If you don’t know by the time you’re 25, you will never know and that is a secret we will take to our grave.  I do my best to pull damage control and just hope to the sweet Basil Gods above that everything works out alright.

Well, it didn’t work out all right.  Dinner was not good.  My husband slept on the couch that night and it got me thinking about the other things that spouses should never do.  Actually, let’s widen that to encompass any two or more people living together, regardless of their relationship to each other – what they shouldn’t do.

1.  We covered the sauce thing, but let me clarify – don’t try to cook something that has already been perfected by your spouse/partner/roommate.   This would include any and all ethnic foods.  I once lived with a pretty rad Indian chick.  She wasn’t much of a cook, but when she made her authentic Indian cuisine that one time, I wasn’t about to offer suggestions.  I wouldn’t dare try to recreate it or perfect it.  I’m pretty sure her mom actually cooked it and she just heated it up, but still, ya just don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  (I don’t understand that expression at all, but I’m pretty sure I’m using it right.)
2. Don’t badmouth each other’s friends.  True – there are probably a few DB’s in your husband’s inner circle, but obviously they don’t care.  As long as they are not insisting you hang out with them too, what’s the biggie?  Until you do have to hang out with them and you end up telling them off and being the biggest b-word wife in the crew.  This may or may not have actually happened, my lips are sealed.   But, gentlemen, my warning is more for YOU.  A woman’s besties are like family.  It’s sacred ground and you better tread lightly.   You don’t like my ladies?  Better shut your mouth, fool!  (Imagine Mr. T saying that, because that’s how bad@$$ I will get if you cross that line.)
3. Don’t fight over the position of the toilet seat.  Now, this only happens in male-female households.  Or households where there are several women that get drunk and puke a lot.  Or households where men like to relax when they pee.  Okay, it can happen in any living situation.  My point – LOOK before you sit down.  I have to brag that this is a strong point in my marriage.  My husband is pretty cool about keeping the seat down. Probably since we have a six year old daughter that gets up to use the bathroom during the night and if he left it up, he would inevitably be woken by the panic of a schoolchild fighting the tide of toilet swooshery.  But even before she was toilet trained, I never went ass-first into a chilly bowl of liquid germ infestation.  Good job, my good man, good job!
4. Don’t insist on “pink” and “blue” jobs.  Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s important to split the housework.  BUT, and that’s a big but – when you start labelling things as traditionally a man’s or a woman’s task, you’re gonna get in trouble.  For instance, in my house, my husband is responsible for taking out the trash and getting it to the road for pickup.  Except, sometimes he’s not home when the bag is full and sometimes he forgets to put it out before he goes to work.  In those cases, I have to take over.  And that’s cool, it needs to be done.  But then, if the dishes need to be done and I’m heading out to work overnight and he calls “pink job” on that sink full of dishes, no bueno.  Gender lines and roles are blurring, just help each other out and get it done.
5. Don’t cheer against each other’s favourite sports team.  Unless they are a fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  Then try with all your might to get them to see reason.  And don’t let them poison your children with the false hope that “it’s just a rebuilding year.”  Don’t let your children grow up thinking that life is a series of disappointments.  They should have something positive in their lives.
6. Don’t look to Hollywood for an example of a good relationship.  Just don’t.
7. Don’t leave your dirty laundry around the house.  I mean your literal dirty laundry.  Socks.  Shirts.  Undies … any of it.  I’m sure one of you has established a basket or a bin that is intended specifically for dirty laundry, what a novel idea.  Use it.  Underwear, whether clean or otherwise, does not belong on a table of any kind.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
8. Do not watch “The Walking Dead” without him.  Or her.  I know, he’s working late tonight and you heard that last night’s episode was life-changing, but this, quite literally, may be the ultimate betrayal.  Consider the future of your relationship before you press play.  Seriously.
9. Don’t let your spouse or roomie leave the house in something that makes them look ridiculous.  I’m taking it one step further than the traditional: ‘does this make me look fat?’  If it makes me look fat, or skinny, or makes my butt look flat, or that I’m trying to be 20 again, or that I just jumped out of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, or that I’m perhaps attending an off-season Halloween party, or I’m trying to teach my kids a lesson about appropriate sized clothing – warn me.  Do it gently, but for the love of God, warn me that I’m making a bad decision.
10. Don’t eat the sacred leftovers.  You know what I mean – the one dish that you probably could have finished at the restaurant but you were thinking ahead to tomorrow’s lunch and decided you needed this heaven to return to your lips once more, in reheated form.  Growing up, it was steak tidbits.  I remember someone ate my leftover tidbits one day, I almost divorced my parents on the spot.  How could they do this to me?  Even if they didn’t eat it, surely they had control over the others in the household.  I am the oldest child, and by 10 years with my youngest sibling, it’s not likely SHE heated them up all by herself.  What kind of fresh hell are you serving me today, dad?  “Oh, ya know, Kris, the kind where you DON’T GET TO EAT YOUR TIDBITS!”  Life changing disappointment.  It’s just not cool.

So, that’s my list.  Follow these don’ts to ensure a happy and healthy living partnership.  I like that 10 was a nice round number, I’m a little anal that way.  But I had really thought of one more.  It’s really only relevant when there is a baby in the house, which happens to be my situation right now, so let’s just call it a BONUS don’t:

BONUS:  Don’t walk out of the room when you see your diapered baby make “the face.”  You know exactly what I mean.  Don’t suddenly realize it’s time to wash your hair or organize your nails & screws by length and color.  Take turns with the explosions.  Respect your partner’s desire to not smell poop up close EVERY time the little one gets the job done.  When you volunteer to change that diaper, that’s love.  That’s love.  Plus, when kids are doing number two, they make really great faces that are awesome to point and laugh at.  Nothing says ‘bonding’ like teasing an 18 month old together.