How Sweet it Is

Last Saturday, amongst the craziness of preparing and attending Jeremy's ill-fated Chuck E Cheese birthday party, I had also planned a gathering of women from our new ward, meant to facilitate getting to know each other and making new friendships. When I hit upon the idea of inviting several women that I barely know over to my house, I decided to call Angela and ask her what I should plan. Being married to an officer in the United States Air Force, Angela has moved several times in the last 10 years, and is well-versed at fitting into new areas and quickly making friends. Her idea? A chocolate themed party. I went to the party store, purchased the pinkest, glittery-est, most sparkly invitations I could find, and filled them out, tactfully requesting that everyone bring their favorite chocolate dessert, and to leave their husbands and children at home. I quickly made the decision to provide chocolate fondue, which I assumed would be devoured by everyone in attendance. As it happened, on the day of the actual party, things didn't quite go as planned. I had intended to do most of the prep for my party ahead of time, cutting up fruit, portioning pretzels, marshmallows, and other items to dip into the chocolate sauce. Amongst the craziness that Jeremy's party (and early morning basketball game that Ammon needed to coach) there was absolutely no time to do things ahead of time. Therefore, on Saturday afternoon, we were in a scramble to get everything done in time. My wonderful husband left me sitting on the couch holding a sleeping Brooklyn, and proceeded to scrub the kitchen. I don't mean that he simply wiped down the counters and loaded the dishwasher, I mean he scrubbed the kitchen. He wiped walls, cabinets, and appliances. He swept, scrubbed, and shined the floor. He even pulled apart the leaves of the table to clean the ever present gunk from between the halves. He washed dishes, he cleaned the sink, he even shined the toaster! I was so impressed, grateful, and flattered that he was concerned enough with the success of my party to go to this much effort. After a quick dinner and a rushed bedtime for the kids, I planned to spend the remainder of the evening dicing and arranging the various kinds of fruit I had purchased. However, reality was different once again. As I once again tended to a fussy baby, Ammon started getting the food ready for dipping. I managed to do some one-handed tasks and organizing while Ammon slaved at the table with a cutting board and knife. After 45 minutes of cutting, this:

is what the first plate looked like. Not enough, you say? Being unable to fit the rest of the fruit on the first platter, and with only ten minutes to spare, he also constructed this:

Needless to say, the party was a huge hit, and I can take almost no credit. I wasn't responsible for the sparkling clean apartment, and aside from putting a few other items in bowls, and preparing the chocolate sauce, I had nothing to do with the food, either. In fact, in hindsight, I have a hard time remembering if I did anything of note to prepare for this party. Imagine the delight of my guests, when they walked into my pristine kitchen, and saw this:

laid out for our feast.

I can barely even express how grateful I am for a husband who doesn't sit back and support passively. When I undertake something monumental, like a large party on a day that is already brimming with activities, he jumps in and makes it happen. He's a wonderful testament to the kind of men I hope our boys grow up to be, and the kind of man I hope our daughter marries. Those people who thought we wouldn't last a year when we first announced our plan to marry? I guess the jokes on them, because the last 8 years of my life have been the sweetest of all.