CRYING IN THE KITCHEN

Friday night was Papa John's pizza night at the Sigety Home - thank you $10 pizza promotion! John and I ate together and then went our separate ways for the night. John to his books and me to my night out with the girls. Totally fair right? Sorry honey.

Before I headed out, I left what's all too often become my calling card: a kiss and a dirty kitchen. And when I say dirty - I mean the "before" shot of an infomercial selling the miracle kitchen cleaning tool. Not kidding, so bad we had to strategically stack our dishes as to not make the tower in the sink topple over, and finding a crumb-free counter space was a lost cause. Don't judge me. I'd intended to clean it all week, but somehow managed to consistently and conveniently run out of time every night last week. I felt guilty for letting it get so bad, and decided that I'd clean it the next morning. Then I headed out for my spa night with the girls.

I managed not to think about the kitchen the whole night...until I got in the car to head home at 2am. That's when I realized not only what time it was, but also that I'd have to clean the kitchen in the morning. Talk about a mood killer.

When I got home, John was already in bed. I stepped three feet into the house and, WAIT, was that a hint of lemon in the air? I turned, dropped my purse and my jaw followed suit. The kitchen was spotless. And that's when I started to cry. Yes - 2am, in the dark, by myself, I cried at a clean kitchen. What's next you ask? Crying at Hallmark TV commercials? I do that too. This must be a sign that my transformation into mature womanhood, waterworks and all, is complete. haha

My sweet husband, with SO much on his plate, had stopped studying long enough to clean his plate and mine too! (and the whole kitchen for that matter!) Initial guilt soon turned into complete gratitude and appreciation for John. A clean kitchen did more than flowers, chocolates, or any gift ever does. I felt the true love that comes when you are served by someone else in way that you really needed. 10 points John. Actually, make that 20.

So what do I take away from all this? That John is one darn good husband who unselfishly served his wife even when it wasn't convenient for him. Or maybe the lesson I should remember is that if I let the kitchen get bad enough, my husband will be disgusted and clean it up for me. Ok...fine...I'll stick with the first one.

You're a good man, John Sigety, and I love you.