No more wooden kitchens!

When I got married I thought for sure that things like getting gas, taking out the garbage, and putting together/building things had finally come to an end. I mean, that’s what husbands are supposed to do for their wives, right? Right! But what happens when that husband deploys? The word screwed comes to mind. Over the 5.5 years that Ed and I have been married (and in the Army) I have found myself grow more and more independent; it actually quite surprises me what I can do alone. I blame the Army for this, by the way. Ed has always been supportive and voiced how proud he is of me from the day he left for basic training and I wrote him telling him that I opened a can of SpaghettiOs all by myself for the very first time (yes, I was 18 years old and yes I was spoiled growing up, don’t judge me). But today was an all new experience for me and after I was finished, I emailed Ed to let him know that I will never do that again. I put together a wooden kitchen for Layla! Actually, that’s not what I would call it. I would call it bruising, straining, puncturing, hurting, and giving myself a black eye for Layla, well, because that is what happened. It took a good old fashioned screwdriver, a little elbow grease, and 3.5 hours to realize I will never buy a wooden kitchen again unless Ed is home to put it together (or of course I find one for a killer deal like I did this one. I mean, who can pass up a $150 kitchen for $30? Not me!). So there you have it, my morning consisted of just about killing myself to see a smile on my daughter’s face, but it was so worth it. I think I did a pretty darn good job, if I do say so myself.