Becoming Domestic

My one year anniversary is coming up, and I am still making some elementary mistakes when it comes to my wifely duties.

I want to host a class called "Becoming Domestic" for all new brides, except I don't know how to do much of anything. I asked a local kitchen store if the owner would be interested in teaching a class, as I have yet to learn the in's and out's of wife-dom. They were intrigued, and I spatted off some of the topics I was interested in: meal planning, tablescapes, gardening, basic sewing, party planning, and even prayer life as a new wife.

(There has been a bad deal between the kitchen store and the paper, so I presume that there will be no "Becoming Domestic" class at her store location.)

As I mentioned, I've made some elementary mistakes. What mistakes, you may ask...

A while back, I was making coffee cake, I believe. I had to go to the store to get brown sugar; the recipe called for 'packed brown sugar.' I was looking and looking, couldn't find 'packed brown sugar.' So I called my momma. She laughs hysterically. There is just brown sugar that you pack in the measuring cup. Thank God I didn't ask a store clerk.

In my defense, I think the recipe is a bit redundant with calling for 'packed brown sugar.' I knew that brown sugar basically packs itself!

And here's the latest; by latest I mean last week. My mom came and stayed with us one night before heading to the mountains. Being that my mom is the ultimate stain getter-outer, I saved a spaghetti stain on a favorite 'table cloth' of mine for her to get out. (I had already soaked it twice and was left with a faint hint of orange color from the spaghetti sauce.)

She looks at the fabric and says, "Y'all been eating spaghetti in bed?!"

"Umm no! Why would you think that?!"

She responds, "Because this is a sheet!!"

OMG.

I am so dumb.

She gave me what I thought was an antique table cloth. It's a bed sheet.

The sheet at our table.

The bed sheet with all of my table cloths, napkins and coasters.

Finally, the bed sheet on the bed. 

It may be a while before I can teach my "Becoming Domestic" class. You think?

Cute idea though, if I say so myself. 

It can be overwhelming at times, but this domesticated thing is supposed to be enjoyable. And for the most part, it is. 

But funny? Oh yes ma'am. That it certainly is.