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Tuesday, May 14, 2013

The One Where I'm A B*tch

Yeah. Ugly title to match the ugly attitude it went with.

As someone who shares her life and thoughts freely on a blog, I have tried and tried to be authentic, transparent, real...

But that doesn't always happen.

In an effort to convey a message and the way I am growing in my faith, the good, fluffy, candy-coated stuff often takes center stage.

So allow me to introduce you to the real, ugly, vicious me that lurks just around the corner and simmers just below the surface of the smiling pictures you see of me on Facebook.

Saturday night found me in a fowl mood; fried, mentally exhausted from being a mom, and needing a vacation STAT.

Joe came home from work and wanted to immediately go mow the lawn.

Yes, I agreed the grass needed mowed. It was literally at least a foot high. And by grass I mean weeds. So our yard looked like Sanford & Son. It was time.

And truth be told, I am not jumping up and down to mow it myself. It takes at minimum 2 hours to mow.

So, while I was thrilled to have it mowed and even more thrilled to not have to do it myself, I just wanted a break and to tag my partner to jump in and help me with the parental responsibilities.

I asked Joe to forego mowing.

That frustrated him.

Which frustrated me.

Which led to an awful argument about way more than mowing the lawn. We rolled eyes, we raised voices, we said the F word.

Okay, I said the F word.

I also said something like "I absolutely hate you right now."

And then we stopped speaking or making eye contact for the rest of the night.

And then the sun rose on Mother's Day, Sunday.

I was feeling better until Joe went out to mow the lawn.

I sat down to do my Bible study and get rid of my rotten mood (which had followed me through the night) and--as is the nature of the universe--my kids would not leave me be for a second when I needed it most.

Instead, I felt my insides start to boil again.

I decided to journal my thoughts in the notebook I'd bought for my study. I don't normally journal.

I filled 2 full pages front and back and half of another with all the vile, awful, evil, mean, hateful thoughts I had about Joe.

I raked him over the coals for every single imaginable fault he has and even some that I know he doesn't. I was on a roll. It felt cleansing, therapeutic. I wrote all the things that rolled around in my brain, but I would never say to him or anyone else.

And then I put the notebook away and went about the day (which did end on a wonderful note celebrating with his mom and sister...)

Sunday night went much better than Saturday. We were friends again and I forgot about the notebook of vile contempt that sat innocently enough in my kitchen.

Monday morning I barely remember Joe waking me up to tell me he was leaving for work.

I tried to squeeze in a couple hours more of sleep despite the babies yelling at me from their beds. Finally, I rolled out of the bed and grabbed for my phone (embarrassingly, the first thing I check in the morning).

I saw a text from Joe first. He told me he emailed me a link to an article. There'd been an accident and he had pulled a woman from her car and called her husband. He said the other woman was pretty banged up.

I couldn't open my email fast enough. I read the article, saw the picture, and frantically texted back to Joe to get more details.

Here is the picture:

photo source: kdka

Seeing that car in pieces was eye opening.

Hearing that Joe literally slammed on his brakes and fish tailed to avoid being a part of it was hair raising.

Learning that he left from home later than he wanted to because our 6 year old wanted to show him something made me sick.

The realization that I barely remembered him leaving that morning and the awful words I had spit in his face only 24 hours earlier scared the crap out of me.

And then I remembered the 2 1/2 pages of angry, hateful words that were resting on my kitchen shelf.

I ripped them out and tore them to shreds.

I realized that I can spend hours focusing on all the areas I think Joe sucks in or I can celebrate every single day we have together.

No, I don't suddenly think he's perfect and I still think my angry feelings were valid, but I don't have to dwell on them. I don't have to think my husband is piece of crap because he's human and flawed.

Instead, I choose to love him and do my best to be respectful of him, regardless of whether or not he's "towing the line"

I'll still get mad. I'll still say things I regret later, and I'll probably still drop an F bomb here and there...

But that's not going to define my marriage or how I see my husband.

As exhausting as it is, I'll do my best to cherish every moment with him and with my kids. They are fleeting and can be gone in the blink of an eye.

And all those other cliches that make you want to scream and stop time.

So, we celebrated last night.

It took a car accident to make me realize my husband is pretty friggin terrific.

He's a hero in every sense of the word in my eyes.

So we treated him as such last night when he got home from work. :)



The banner that said "You're Our Hero"






The kids greeted him in their Super Hero masks



Our hero
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