How NOT to Help Your Husband – Hilarious Guest Post from Hubby Himself

See this picture?

halloween cheese stick

This is a picture of my wife’s idea of “help” that she posted on Instragram the other day. Let me explain.

At the start of this school year, my wife decided she would do her best to make sure that each day the kids were eating something interesting and different. Thus began Operation Awesome School Lunch, which, to be honest, has made us pretty popular around the house.

The biggest problem with making these awesome lunches, however, is.. well.. making these lunches. Not all the time, but some nights, it takes a lot more time and effort, more than we’re willing to give if we’ve had a long day, or an intricate dinner.

Sometimes, after a long day of work, homework, soccer, and chores, we’re just not into making these awesome lunches. There are days we miss slapping some meat on a sandwich and calling ‘er done. Quite frankly, if I thought I could get away with ordering pizza and having delivered to the school I would! (Side note: HELLO!? BEST IDEA EVER!)

The other night, though, I was tired. You know how it is, long day at the office, come home to help clean up a little, carve a pumpkin for Halloween, clean a baby who managed to poop from her bottom all the way to her neck… just an average Tuesday in my life. But while Lisa was nursing the baby, realizing I was flying solo, I sidewards glanced the lunchboxes, flashing them the evil “Do I have to?” look, about to tackle the Lunch Box Making of Doom™ by myself, and quite grumpily at that. Thankfully, not but a few minutes into it, my wife had just finished nursing the baby, and took pity on me and my long day, with her sing-songy voice from the living room, she told me she’d come rescue me, errr, help.

As she glided into the kitchen to prepare the baked sliced potatoes, I continued cutting spinach and artichoke lasagna, putting it into the kids’ school containers, half-heartedly. I move onto my daughter’s sandwich, caring very little to be careful about spreading the Nutella, pouting insufferably when Lisa asks, “Hon, where’s the Sharpie?”

Huh? A Sharpie? What does she need a Sharpie for? We’re making lunch? I responded that I didn’t know, and continued on slugging lasagna into containers.

“I only found a purple and green one… but no black one. Don’t you have a black marker in your bag?” She asked.

Again, WHY DOES SHE NEED A SHARPIE? AND WHO CARES WHAT COLOR IT IS?

I mumbled, “I think so, babe, just give me a sec.” I wasn’t particularly pleased to take a break from this God-awful lunch-making, making the suck last THAT much longer, particularly for a useless marker? But I did it, anyway, because I still had no clue what was up, and usually there’s a method to my wife’s madness. Lo and behold, in my laptop bag is a black Sharpie. (Another good reason to keep a magician around the house.)

I didn’t question anything (publicly) at this point, because there was work to be done, I just handed the Sharpie to her and continued chugging along. But it was about three minutes later, while knee deep in grilled cheeses for the eight-year-old, that I glanced over to see my lovely, hard working, amazing wife….. drawing mother #$*(@&#$ faces on string cheeses.

Seriously…just read those last few words again and take a minute to let that sink in…. I’ll wait.

I can’t even comprehend how or what was happening, so I just shook my head and went on with what I was doing, secretly cursing and laughing simultaneously (such is the married life, after all). Moments later, though? Still not cranking out anything lunch related, now she’s holding her freaking IPAD. Yes, dear readers, she’s moved onto making cute, Halloween-esque faces on string cheeses to now taking pictures of said cheeses and posting it right in the middle of making lunch!

I couldn’t help myself… the merciless teasing began immediately.

“You are the worst assistant EVER!”

She broke out in hysterics. “But they’re cuuuuuuuute, aren’t they!?”

“I’ve got a great idea for some help…. I’ll draw on the kids food!” I teased.

She laughed even harder, clutching her chest.

“Here to collect her mother of the year award, ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for….. Lisa! For sacrificing her time and energy to selflessly draw Jack ‘o Lantern faces on string cheese! You win at LIFE!”

She laughed to the point of not breathing. You know, that laugh-out-loud, but totally silent, not breathing kind-of laughter? Totally wide-mouthed and tear-filled. But I took no pity on her. I continued teasing.

“Hold on babe! I’ll help as soon as I finish blogging about helping you!”

She laughed so hard she almost fell down. And, because of the tears in her eyes, and inability to breathe properly, perhaps my teasing tactics could’ve waited until AFTER THE DARNED LUNCH WAS DONE. Because, y’know, she really didn’t help much more after that.

And not because she was upset with me, or anything, but because she was too busy laughing her face off to do anything more.

Sigh.

It really is hard to find good help these days.

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