Isn't it funny how you can remember some really obscure, insignificant things.
A long, long time ago....Anthony and I were newlyweds. I worked at Coles and studied full-time and Anthony worked in the city and would commute by train. I would drop him at Woy Woy train station at 6:45am and pick him up about 6:30pm.
The excitement of being a 'wife' meant I found joy from the stupidest things. I felt pride in making my HUSBAND's (you know how newly married girls pronounce that word with a dreamy look in their eyes) lunches each morning. I stood back and admired our neatly set, oversized-for-our-tiny-unit dinner table. I pat my self on the back when I figured out finally how to pay a bill via B-Pay....at 20 years old! Cleaning the bathroom was actually kind of fun for about 2 weeks.
One thing I didn't really enjoy was making dinner. I come from an early-dinner family and the idea of waiting til Anthony got home at 6:30pm and cooking dinner together was just unfathomable. Instead I made dinner and had it all ready to eat once we got back from the train station. Everyday I would ponder over what to make and then whip it up and cross my fingers that it would turn out ok. My cooking skills have improved since then and along the way I started to actually enjoy cooking, but it wasn't always this way.
One memorable moment from our early days of marriage is when I bought a BBQ chicken to have for dinner and made up some roast potatoes, carrots, broccoli, corn on the cob, and gravy to go with it. I served it all up and ducked off to grab Anthony from the train station. Once we came home, Anthony expressed his appreciation for dinner and several times throughout the meal commented on how much he enjoyed it.
Once we had finished dinner and were tidying up the kitchen, Anthony was scraping some leftovers into the bin. Suddenly I heard a horrified gasp as he spun around holding the BBQ chicken bag in his hand. As if he had discovered a murder weapon he exclaimed;
"What? You didn't make this! You bought the chicken!"
To which I shrugged my shoulders and said;
"I know. I never said I made it."
Anthony was cracking up laughing by this point and said;
"But I kept complimenting you on the meal and you kept saying 'thankyou'. You made out like you had made it. There was even gravy!"
In my head, I HAD made the meal. Well, all except the chicken. But that's the easy part. All you do is put it in a roasting pan in the oven. The side dishes are what takes up all the time and effort! In my head, I had never pretended to make the chicken. The wrapper was put in the bin because I was finished with it, not to hide the evidence. By the end of the conversation we were both laughing stupidly. But I remember this. I remember it like it was yesterday and it still makes me smile because we are still those same people and we would react the same way all these years later.
And eight years on I still find joy in making Anthony's lunch every day. That is about 2000 lunches. All made with love. I'm just saying.
I am also just saying that Mother's Day is a month away.