Yesterday my husband (who is Filipino) says babe can you make me chicken adobo tonight? I’m thinking ummm isn’t that Mexican? He informs me there is a Filipino version. So I look it up and then he tells me, “my mom used to make it all the time, it’s a favorite.”

GREAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!

If your married there is one thing you should always know….YOU CAN NOT MAKE IT TASTE LIKE HIS MOTHERS!

So I make it, and it is simmering on the stove when he walks in he says, “mmm smells like home.” I think I’m golden. then he goes to look at it and says, “It doesn’t look the same as when mom makes it, yours is darker.” Confidence shot down like a balloon my son just popped.

BUT THEN DUN DUN DUN He tastes it. He says, “Wow babe, it’s so good, it taste JUST LIKE MOM.”

Whuuuu. Did those words just come out of his mouth. No fucking way!

Then he says the following things:

It is delicious
It taste exactly like my mom made it
I am so happy I want you to make it all the time!

So of course I respond with YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO TELL YOUR MOM RIGHT (his mom who thinks I’m a piece of shit and can’t cook and can’t clean a house and can’t keep her son happy). He’s like I’m going to E-mail right away!

As luck would have it, his dad calls right at that moment and I kind of pretend to walk out of listening distance when I hear the following:

DAD! Shannon made chicken adobo
No really dad it was good
It was amazing
Dad it tasted just like mammas it was that good
Tell mom about it dad, she didn’t even use a real recipe she just went off what I said and then looked at a few things and made it up!

Ohhhhhh Yeah folks thats right you heard it here first I DID IT AS GOOD AS HIS MOM!!!!

Also lemme give you some background on his mom. She was born in the Philippines. Here idea of a good wife is a wife that was chosen to marry you, whose only job is to stay home, cook, clean and pop out babies. Also they are to present them selves in no more then a size two and should be tattoo free and have freshly blown out hair.

Now since I have a job that bothers her. Then, since Rob LOVES to cook as much as me some nights I actually let him use the grill or deep fat fry himself some greeezy food. Because I let him do this (while still cooking a meal for Brandon and I) she says that I don’t cook and her poor son has to cook for himself. Then for some odd reason she thinks I don’t clean. Probably because I always have at least three things in my sink, ie spoon, coffee cup knife…that type of thing.

However this woman stopped cleaning when her kids were old enough to do it and hasn’t done it since they left. Meaning if you go to her house you will find a coat of dust so thick behind her toilet seat or on her knick knacks that they aren’t even cleanable. However, this weekend, although I’m still supposed to be taking it easy I did the following while cleaning my house: Cleaned every single door jam (including the little gold things that hooked my door to the wall), soaked all the stuff on the bathroom counter and scrubbed it till it was shiny, vacuumed every single edge of every wall in my house with the vacuum hose, scrubbed every bathroom counter, and every single thing on it, cleaned out our medicine cabinets, cleaned every single mirror in the house, took down anything decorative in my house and soaked it and scrubbed it, cleaned out both my fridge and freezer, washed every rug in my house, dusted under every electronic device, cleaned out my sons toy box, cleaned out the drawers in my coffee table, and then did the regular cleaning things. I do this normally when I clean. Yet she thinks I can’t clean. She also thinks I don’t know how to cook. Which is why the year before last when I made the best prime rib ever she was shocked, and stunned to say the least when her own husband ate 4ths and then left Reno forgetting his left overs and actually turned the car around to come get his left overs. It is also why this Christmas she tried to make one and ended up having to call me into the kitchen at the end to help her figure out why hers was over well done and not medium rare (duh the thermometer needs to be in it the whole time you can’t just stick it in randomly for a second and get the right temp). It is also why her son before he met me had never had strawberry shortcake, a real chicken salad sandwich, and has never never had a REAL HOMEMADE TURKEY SANDWICH WITH LEFT OVER THANKSGIVING TURKEY!!!!!!! Yeah let me tell you how much I blew his mind last year with that one…the boy ate no less then four of them in 2 days after tasting the goodness of a REAL turkey sandwich. She also used those preformed boxed taco shells, so you can imagine how much he loves when I fry up corn tortillas and make him fresh taco shells.

So it is because of all this, that you have to understand why it means sooooo much to me when I heard that I did it as good as his mom, because my husband has his mom up on the biggest highest pedistool you ever saw. Sooooo I DID IT LIKE MOM DOES IT AHAHAHAHAHAH!