This is a tale about a man, who wanted to do something nice and considerate for his adoring wife on Mother's Day. It was a cloudy morn, the bird's song wafting in the air, as the wife arose. The loving husband tells his wife to enjoy the sunrise, as he was going to prepare a hot cup of espresso for his loving wife to enjoy, on this, her day. No need to stir, he says, I have this under control. I start to question whether or not he really does, and he reassures me. "I am after all, a rocket scientist, and espresso is not rocket science", he says. I subconsciously agree, although my thoughts are very different from his. I am thinking that the perfect cup of espresso is a much more difficult task, than mere rocket scientry. ( Mind you also, my husband is an aerospace engineer, and I use the term "rocket scientist" loosely. He, however, likes to throw the term around whenever he can, thus commencing a big family joke about it) He disappears into the kitchen as I lay in my fluffy bed, wondering what kind of destruction my kitchen was to soon see, and whether or not my children would survive it. It wasn't 20 seconds later, when my thoughts were interrupted with a call from yonder.
"Honey, where does the water go?" his words resonate from the other room. This is going to be interesting, I thought. Rather than call back to him, I rise out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. "What are you doing in here?" he questions me, as though I am a fish out of water. I laugh to myself, thinking where else would I be? The kitchen is my domain, not yours. "I just thought I would help." I say sweetly. "I don't need your help, " he responds, "I just need to know where the water goes, I can do the rest." I am hoping and praying at this point, that I can at least drink the cup of espresso he is about to make without throwing up, so as not to hurt his feelings. I show him where the water goes, and I leave the room. No sooner than I had reached my fluffy retreat, again, another beckoning from the kitchen.
"Honey? How much coffee do you put in?" This time, I stop for my bathrobe and slippers, thinking I would not be returning to fluffy bliss, but rather getting up and fixing breakfast for my clan. He seems upset that I have returned. "I don't need you, I just need to know how much coffee to put in." I try to explain to him, that it is alright, I am awake now, and do not mind helping to make the espresso. He once again protests. He says he wants to do this for me. In the best interests of our continued successful marriage, I decide that I need to let him do this by himself. It's what he wants. And he is a rocket scientist, he should be able to handle this task. What's the worst that could happen? Sure, it may not be of Starbuck's quality, but it is the thought that counts, right?
This time it is several minutes before I hear the frantic calls. "HONEY!!!!"
This time I run, not walk, to his aid. I arrive to find the espresso machine spewing out of every crevice. Milk, coffee, steam, all seem to be billowing from the small machine, as if it going to explode at any moment. I quickly move to assess the situation and get it under control. The entire time, the children are looking scared from the sidelines. I can hear my oldest saying, "Daaaad, you are not doing it right!!!"
Once the steam clears, and I can see my husband's face, he looks very defeated. I comfort him, and let him know that I greatly appreciate the effort, and if it will make him feel better, I will let him clean up the mess. He reluctantly agrees,, his boyish looks pulling my heartstrings. I look at him, and once again reassure him, and with a final sentence on the subject say "Tea might be nice this morning."
I hope all of you had a wonderful Mother's Day,
xo, Tiffany
