Mixing 101

It has been about 2 months since the wedding. The pictures have come in, the video has been reviewed and the thank you notes are getting done. But the wedding, and all the trappings that come with it are over.

Now it's time to get down to business. I am a wife. Exciting? If you consider night sweats and all out panic at the site of your bakeware exciting, then yes. It is mucho exciting.

I was truly not prepared for all this. I think I was distracted by all the commotion of planning a wedding. And we had bought a house (a fixer-upper) that required alot of attention in the months leading up to the wedding. Yes, I was distracted and unprepared for it...but I am confident that I can get this wife thing down. It just takes a little adjusting is all. Right? I'll learn to cook, figure out the washer/dryer, and cleaning can't be too difficult...

Skip 2 months ahead to present time. I am composing my blog in an effort not to lose my mind. Perhaps if I write it all out, it will be theraputic. Like keeping a diary when you were 8. So here goes.

The mixer referenced in my last post became the bane of my existence over the last three weeks. It was purchased at Williams-Sonoma after the wedding with gift certificates. Obviously, I was still in bride mode. The bride in me wanted it because it comes in cool colors that match your kitchen, and plus...all good wives have them. The wife if me should have known better.

So it sat on the counter, taunting me, for the past three weeks. Finally, in an effort to avoid doing yard work with my new husband, I declared that I was going to bake a cake this past Saturday. This would necessarily involve the use of the mixer. "See I told you I would use it."

(All Brides Beware...It looks as sweet as a Betty Crocker Muffin, but it is as evil as Lucifer himself)

It took three trips to the supermarket (did you know baking powder and baking soda are different? And there are different types of sugar?). I was undeterred and remained confident. With the Betty Crocker Newlywed Edition Cookbook by my side this would be a piece of cake...literally.

I am still not sure exactly what happened and when...I know that at some point my enthusiam turned to anger, and then panic, and then I was fighting for survival in my own kitchen. It was me vs. the mixer. Clearly I had underestimated the mixer.

Flour was everywhere, cake batter and frosting were on my clothes (despite my new apron) and I swear that mixer laughed at me when I turned my back on it. While I was not severely injured, I cut my hand and had to cut a chunk of hair that had gotten wrapped around the whisk-thing off. In the end I had made a cake, from scratch, and the frosting.

It took my husband 4 glasses of milk to get down one piece. He told me it was great, delicious, "right up there with my mom's" he said. The last comment was the clincher. I knew he was lying as soon as he uttered it.

Because that it the whole point. That is where the panic comes from. His mother, my new mother-in-law, has the wife thing down. I may have been a great bride, but this lady is a great wife. As was my mom. And somehow all the expectations that no one has for me anyway, are suffocating me.

And therein lies my personal crusade. I will kick the mixer's ass...or die trying.