Why Throwing Pizza is Never a Good Idea

Especially at your husband's head.

Simon was working long hours; he was doing a lot of driving as he is an electrician, and he was barely home. We were crossing each other like two ships passing in the night and I felt like a single Mum.

The rational part of my brain had shut down because, of course, I had it harder than him, I was bringing up a special needs child practically alone which permitted me to be a selfish dick.

I was pacing the kitchen like a raging bull as Simon had come home from work, barely said a word to me and got straight in front of the TV and I naturally presumed he was waiting for his dinner to be served to him.

Any spoken word that came out of Simons's face would have ended in complete disaster. I was a mother on zero hours of sleep and so sleep-deprived that I was feeding a pet rabbit we never even had.

I was a mother on the edge, and it was a disaster waiting to happen.

‘No, it is fine. You just sit there and wait for your dinner to be brought to you because we have travelled back to caveman times. You man. Me woman. You work. Me slave.’

Then THAT question came from his lips.

This is a question only a moron would ask a mother already losing her shit from looking after the baby all day, every day on her own, while her beloved partner is out working. This question needs to be taught to any new fathers in all antenatal classes that it is one to never be asked in any circumstances and in any situation.

Even if you feel like it is a glorious day, all is well with the world, the sun is shining, the flowers are blooming and smelling marvellous, and you have even seen a pink unicorn walk past giving you a cheeky wink while farting the winning lottery numbers out in glitter, while thinking what possibly could go wrong?

If you ask that question, that’s what.

Lads down the pub need to add this into their banter about how once one of their mates asked that question and now, he is dead…oh, how they all roared with laughter!

Fuck it, I will go as far as to say that they need to start putting a warning on condoms.

Ready for the question?

‘Well, what exactly have you done all day? Because by the look of things, not a lot, it must be really difficult staying at home all day’.  

I can’t recall what happened when I heard these immortal words hit my ears and shoot to my brain to be processed.

You know when people say they saw red or a black mist or someone, or something, came over them and took over? It was a bit like that. There was no thought process involved, it wasn’t pre-empted, and I shocked myself by what happened next – and to be honest with you, it scared the shit out of me what I was capable of.

What is next? Murder?

I marched over to the fridge and opened it so violently I thought the door was coming off the henges and I knew exactly what I was looking for. I grabbed a large dinner plate full of leftover pizza from the night before and calmly walked over to the living room from the kitchen.

I saw that he was sitting with his back to me on the sofa, just displaying his bald head; it was asking for it, it was a glorious target.

In one swift movement, I lifted the plate above his oblivious head, turned it upside down and placed the whole lot on top of his head. I walked away back into the kitchen and carried on with my duties.

‘What the fuck are you doing? You are crazy!!’ Now it was his turn to be the raging bull and he was mad. Really fucking mad.

The pizza was all over his head, all down his work uniform, all over the sofa and on the floor too, and in my defence, you can tell this wasn’t planned because I had just given myself a shit load more of cleaning to do.

Jake sat happily in his highchair watching a repeat of Mr Tumble yet again and laughing at messy Daddy.

As a robot, I carried on with what I was doing in the kitchen like the last ten seconds didn’t exist, until I felt something hard hit my arm and it really bloody hurt.

‘Have you seriously just thrown the pizza back at me? OMG, it has cut my arm! How can pizza cut my arm!?’

‘You deserved it and DO NOT ever do that to me again.’

At this stage you are not sure whether to apologize and blame it on the lack of sleep or laugh about it both knowing we will talk about for it for years to come.

Neither happened. We remained in complete silence cleaning the mess up and Simon realised to never ask me that question again, and that he is living with an unhinged woman, and I must now set a reminder to hide all the knives in the house.

I took some firm lessons from that day.

1)    Never leave left over pizza in the fridge to erase any chance of it happening again.

2)    Or scrap one and just eat all my dinner.

3)    Pizza can hurt. Must stock up on plasters.

4)    Have sympathy with any woman who murdered their husbands due to lack of sleep.

5)    Try to stop and breath; count to ten before losing my shit.

Image by Image by sym from Pixabay