Creative marriage maintenance is a core parenting task, one that is ideally shared between the adult partners. In the long run, it’s far more important than folding the laundry done or getting the kids to bed on time. “Adult time” or “date nights” should be high on the priority of parents everywhere — carefully planned and faithfully executed. So why the hell did I pick a sushi “cooking” class for our date this weekend?
There are several answers. Jealousy is one. My wife has been gifted cooking classes in the past. And she’s raved about how much fun they are. She’s just never picked me to attend these with her. I took care of that.
We like sushi, the class fell on a Saturday night. Done deal. Based on my wife’s descriptions of past classes, I was looking forward to kicking back and watching zen master sushi chefs wielding sharp knives and dicing up amazing fresh fish as we sipped chardonnay.
Those dreams were crushed under the steaming bowl of sticky rice the white-coated assistant plopped down on our table.
What followed was a ritualized humiliation which reminded my why my papier-mache mask was the only one not displayed out of the whole third grade. Not only did I end up with rice grains coating the entire surface area of my body, including underneath my eyelids and in my nostrils, but I managed to ruin two knives, contaminate the communal rice bowl, and offend the chef with my wasabi eating technique.
At no point during the three hour class did I manage to make anything that even vaguely resembled sushi. Except maybe the handroll. Of that, I was so proud that I chest bumped a guy at our table. Which left him covered with rice, and my wife seriously bummed.
Date Night for us is usually a restaurant meal or maybe taking in some music. The cooking class was an effort to try something a little different. An effort that left me wishing that we had stuck to the familiar routine. What do you think? When it comes to the precious time that parents have away from the kids: do you play it safe or wasabi it up?
