Cooking Together (One)

One:

(This is the first part of a series that I will be doing. There will be about 34 or more posts, and they all have one thing in common. Each one will be labeled by its number. So here is number one!)

During my time at the Ann Arbor YMCA, I spent many hours alone with my co-worker Dana. Many times we would discuss private things, or she would give me advice on what to do over the summer, on family situations and often times put in her own two sense about dumb boys.

I love working with Dana, and many times I would hear stories about her and her husband how great their relationship actually is, or something stupid that they ended up doing together. One of the weeks we were talking about some of the dysfunction in my family I’m not going to go into many details but an example was how arguments are started because one parent thought the other parent was going to make dinner.

“Many times Tim and I make dinner together,” Dana said to me as she was grabbing a mat and pulling it into the closet.

“Really?” I asked. I was kind of shocked, making dinner together with whoever my husband will be one day, was always something I thought I wanted, but the reality was that I might not be able to have. “I mean, aren’t your schedules messed up so that it’s barely possible?”

“No, not really. I mean, there are nights when he would come home late and I would have already made dinner for him, or vise versa. It’s what I would expect if I came home later than planned. However, if we are home together, we typically make dinner, together at least once a week.”

I couldn’t help but think back to my parents. Their relationship is fine, don’t get me wrong, but when I think about their marriage, I want one that is a thousand times better than theirs. I see their flaws, I see the gossiping behind each other’s backs and I don’t want that. I want to love my husband and if there is something wrong, I want to confront him about it in a calm manor, and discuss why I would feel the way I do. I want to be able to talk to him while we are cooking dinner, and sit down at a table to eat. Marriage takes work and work is something my parents never seem to have time for.

When it comes to my parents relationship, my Dad always says that my Mom plans and doesn’t tell anyone of the plans, which is true. My Mom says that my Dad doesn’t ask what the plan is, and often appears to have no initiative or drive to find out what the plan for the day actually is, which is also true. However, Dad argues that he shouldn’t have to ask; she should just tell him before she leaves for work. In reality, the two never really talk about the day that is ahead of them when they wake up. That would mean that dinner would never be discussed, the car arrangements for kids and doctor appointments were never discussed, nobody’s chores, nobody’s plans. So what was discussed?

I nodded my head at Dana would couldn’t really see me, “I think that is something I want in my marriage. He doesn’t have to like to cook, he doesn’t have to be great at it, but as long as he would stand beside me and help me, or cut up some vegetables, I think I would be happy. I just want to spend that time with him you know?“

Dana agreed, “Yeah, it’s better time spent than watching T.V. together. I think cooking with your spouse when you can is very important.”

I nodded once again, “it opens up communication, forces you to talk or if you’re not talking, you are at least enjoying each other’s company while doing something together.”

Dana once again agreed, and we continued to talk as we cleaned up the gym and rolled the floors. As we were talking, I kept in mind that I still had to re-write my standards for dating  - that was one of my summer goals – and I kept cooking (at least together) in mind.

Dana’s relationship with her husband seemed so carefree and quirky, but laid back and fun all at the same time. They obviously loved each other, and if I were to get married at the age of 22-24, I think I would want something like what they have. Including the cooking together.