Sunday, September 16, 2012
My husband and I are no exception, but the typical hot button topics are rarely the problem. As a general rule, we agree on finances and despite our often unconventional parenting techniques, our kids seem to be surviving, so why fight about it?
However, none of that means we don't find reasons to let off a little steam from time to time. Our issues are just a bit more, um, stupid? And unfortunately, we don't always keep them within the confines of the privacy of our home...ie; the notoriously public "Worship Your God Fight of 2003." Long story.
That's right. Some of our fights are worthy of going down in history with a name. Which brings us to today....
For starters, it was a highly charged weekend right off the bat. Friday night ended with me feeling rejected and him feeling confused. In an attempt to save the weekend from certain disaster, we scheduled an impromptu date night Saturday and had a heart to heart talk over dinner. (Please bear with me as I get embarrassingly transparent with you for a minute.) I explained that I'm an extremely insecure (almost) 41 year old mother of 4 that desperately craves the ability to still turn my husband's head. Know what I mean?
Fast forward to this morning. I anxiously pulled out the outfit I'd secretly shopped for last week. The big guns. The bling. The clothes I painstakingly chose with the help of a friend for the sole purpose of popping my husband's eyes out of his head. The super-tight-butt-lifting-miracle-jeans and the pink and black sequined top, all made complete by uncomfortably huge hoop earrings with shimmery balls.
I was practically giddy when he walked into the bathroom and saw me. Nothing. I sat across from him in the living room to eat my cereal. Nothing. We had a conversation about apples. Nothing, nothing, nothing...because he hates it and I look fat and he just doesn't want to tell me, right?
I texted my friend and she suggested that I casually fish for a compliment to get his attention. Ok. So I blurted out in a loud and hyperventilating voice, "Do you like this outfit that I bought to wear for you or not because the longer you go without saying anything, the closer I get to changing clothes!" Boom. His look indicated that might not have come out as casually as I'd hoped.
But instead of reassuring me about my outfit, he responded, "Well, you haven't noticed my new shirt that I'm wearing, either!" (Um, dude...that's the free t-shirt we got for running a 5k last week. My deepest apologies for the insensitive oversight.)
The van was completely silent all the way to church. We sat as far away from each other as possible on the tiny pew we share, still not speaking. And then it happened. Someone complimented him on his shirt. My blood almost literally boiled within my veins. A few minutes later, someone told me my shirt was cute and my husband and I shared a smug glare. Then it happened again. Someone else mentioned his shirt. Oh, this is not happening. And that began the "Shirt vs. Shirt Battle of 2012", where members of our congregation became unwitting participants.
None of this makes me proud and I'm already anticipating the spiritual beating that Joyce Meyer has waiting for me this week. But it happened and someone may as well get a laugh out of it...or at least feel the need to pray for us. We're fine with either.
Things finally came to a rolling boil when we were leaving the church and he upped the ante by complimenting someone on how nice they looked. Oh no he di'int!...and then 5 minutes later, he spilled coffee down the front of his shirt.
I win. *snap*