Blinded by the Blight

50 Weeks

Tired and Irrational Mommy (TIM): [On her car phone.] Hi.

Sleepy and Irritable Daddy (SID): [At home in front of a muted baseball game.] Hi.

TIM: So. I just wanted to say I'm sorry.

SID: OK. [Long pause.] Where are you—

TIM: [Interrrupting.] I'm on my way back from the store.

SID: How much did you spend—

TIM: [Interrrupting.] I was trying to be funny but it was mean and I was mad and I was trying to make a point and I thought it would be funny but really I had an agenda so I felt bad after I thought about it but it was funny, you thought, huh?

SID: What?

TIM: It was like something my mother would've done.

SID: Yeah?

TIM: I feel bad. I thought it would make a point. I feel bad though.

SID: I don't know what you're—

TIM: [Interrrupting.] I just, I couldn't ask again— Another time— I couldn't but then— Wait, what?

SID: What are you talking about?

Greg and I bicker often when we are stressed. And when you're sick (we caught Ren's cough) and tired (from coughing) and just trying to get through the minutes (without coughing... or mainlining coffee) of a chaotically busy week (now including doctor's appointments, antibiotics, and chicken soup runs), you tend to get frustrated that you can't control even the little things. To make up for it, you make sure to control the little things your partner does, like breathing, and then, well, when it gets out of hand, the rest is a country and western song.

It was a precious Saturday. I don't like to be a person who lives for weekends but more time with Ren and less time at a copy machine will always get my vote. We spent the day at a company picnic complete with sack races, cotton candy, beer, and hamburgers. It was also the first day we'd chosen to start weaning Ren off nursing and that meant I needed to pump as often as possible while rubbing elbows with Greg's colleagues. Not easy. It also meant our grocery list was increasing by the hour. Ren's growth spurts are Hulkish. So after a day of frisbee and dodge ball with people who I wished had worn name tags ("Hey yooouuu. Yes. Greg talks about yoooouu all the time. And how are yooouuu and your kids? Are they here? Oh, riiiiiight, you don't have kids..."), I had to head to the store before it closed. Long day. And then I saw them...

Greg had, once again, taken off his dirty socks and put them on the kitchen counter.

Yes.

I repeat.

Dirty. Socks.

On our kitchen counter.

I swiped at them in anger and turned to head upstairs where I last saw the culprit. Then I paused. I'm tired of being the nag. I'm tired of feeling like a stereotype. How do I make my point? How do I make it stick? How do I make this the night the man of the house stops inspiring the head woman from acting like a sitcom wife? And then I saw it...

Greg had, once again, set out a can of soup and a box of noodles to heat up for his supper.

Yes.

I repeat.

Box of noodles.

On our kitchen counter.

I ripped open the box, stuffed the dirty socks inside and shut it back up again. That will show him. That will teach him. He'll laugh. He'll cry. He'll have to throw away his dinner. Mean, yes, but so is making me continually disinfect. I giggled and zipped out the door. As I drove, the guilt settled in. By the time I'd reached the check-out counter, I barely set my goods on the belt for rushing through to get back home and apologize profusely.

Tired and Irrational Mommy (TIM): [On her car phone.] What am I talking about? Honey. Have you had dinner yet?

Sleepy and Irritable Daddy (SID): [Still in front of a muted baseball game.] Yeah.

TIM: You ate? Soup and noodles? The noodles on the counter?

SID: Yeah.

TIM: You're finished with dinner?

SID: Yes. Why?

TIM: Honey. The socks. I shouldn't have done that. I feel bad.

SID: Oh. [Long pause.] That was you?

I will never not smile at this story. And I will forever love this as an example of my beautiful marriage. Those moments when the universe stops you and reminds you to laugh at yourself and of course, your husband. I still wonder how much time he spent wondering how, why, when, where his socks ended up in that box of macaroni. Two seconds? "Huh. Weird. Whatever. Hungry."