My utter failure at being domestic this week

I grew up pretty spoiled. I only had to do laundry occasionally and clean the kitchen every Saturday. My room was my responsibility as well. And I would cook pancakes on Saturday for family breakfast for whoever wanted them. But that was pretty much it!

Now, being married and all, I feel like I should be domestic and cook dinner when school is not crazy and do laundry and clean the apartment. Good goals to have and I have practice with 2 out of 3. It's the first one I have the most trouble with: cooking :(

Monday night I cook dinner, rosemary chicken breast and potatoes. Simple enough, except when putting the chicken back in the oven for a couple more minutes I hit the door of the oven and burn my arm. Ouch. I run it under cool water and am content that it shouldn't scar that bad.

Wednesday night is typically girls' night, but we changed it up this week so I decided to make dinner. Ham, baked beans, biscuits and kraft mac 'n' cheese. I've got the beans on one burner, the ham on the other and the pot for the noodles. It's going good and I'm feeling pretty proud of this dinner, however easy it may be to make. Well the time comes to drain the noodles, so I put the lid on the pot (it's a cool pot/lid combo that functions as a drainer as well) and tip it over in the sink. One side note to this cool pot: you MUST make sure the lid is locked before tipping. I did not and when the noodles started pouring out of the pot, I flipped the pot back and splashed boiling water on my face and down my chest. Major freak out moment! I scream (it's a natural response, I tell you!), scare Sean and then start ripping off my apron and shirt to get cool water on it via a towel.

Another side note: my physical therapy side is applying what I'm doing to what I've learned. The cool towel functions to gate the pain because it's sending another stimulus to the brain so that the brain can't focus purely on the hot, burning sensation. It's the same reason you shake your hand out if you accidentally hammer it or whatever you might do to it.

Well, my whole upper chest and neck are red and a spot or two on my face are as well. I'm more freaking out about having scars than the pain and so I agree with Sean to go to the Centra Care by our apartment in hopes that they have better burn cream than what I've got.

By the time we get there, most of the redness has gone away (it was just my pale skin reacting to hot water) and I'm left with what looks like a paint spot that ran and a couple scratch marks on my chest. I feel a little ridiculous about going, but we're already here, so in we go.

Another side note: Sean was so cute - protecting husband - with this that it made me smile as he explained to the secretary what had happened. He's such a good man!

We get back there and the doctor looks at and writes me a script for some type of silver sulfa... cream. You store it in the fridge to keep it cool. It smells kinda like a baby cream.

Once we came home, I told Sean I just can't handle the kitchen: can't deal with boiling water or putting things in the oven. So, I can make baked beans and vegetables, but after that my skills are out. I guess I should have shown an interest in cooking long ago. That might have spared me from all this fun :/