A couple of weeks ago, Ben and I pulled out the drop clothes and brushes, and painted the girls' bedrooms. We are awesome painters. It's not my opinion, it's just a fact. Here's another fact: Ben and I have remodeled four houses during our marriage. In spite of all those years scraping plaster and laying tile, we are still happily married with all twenty fingers.
So, painting a couple of rooms isn’t the kind of thing I would usually make a big deal over and tell the Internet, or even the guy in the paint department at Home Depot. Except, painting two rooms, for four days, with three kids is EXACTLY the kind of thing that should be announced on my out-going vmail message, or scratched into the side of my car so other drivers know to stay a safe distance from the hysterical woman on her way to buy more paint rollers.
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It was on day four of the room redos when we decided to run out with the kids and pick-up some new doodads and odds and ends to match their now lavender walls. So we started getting ready to leave, and I don’t know what I was thinking, but I attempted to put on a little make-up. I'm high-maintenance like that; I want to shower AND put on make-up. Which was crazy, because what kind of self respecting toddler is going to let something like that slip by? It's a slippery slope. First that, then what...mom sits DOWN when she eats?
So, I'm trying to get a little mascara on my lashes. I'm holding Heidi in one arm and the mascara wand in the other hand, and I'm wondering exactly how much force it’s going to take to jam out my eye with this mascara wand, because Heidi's squirming around and disgruntled, as usual. Maybe because she doesn’t have my full attention, maybe because I won’t let her eat my make-up...I mean, there are rules!
Then, while I wasn’t poking out my eye, Ben comes over and asks me to scootch a little; he needs the mirror too. And, won’t it be nice for all three of us to stand really, really close to each other? Except, I can’t seem to understand his simple request since a tidal wave of demands and wants of others is crashing over my head. Then there’s the screeching and crying coming from down the hall and out of Whitney’s and Lexi’s mouths. It’s all swirling together like an olive and pickle strawberry smoothie and I’m about to spit it out all over my family.
In that minute, I thought my mind might just pack it up and go: "Thanks, it's been real. Good luck with all this." But, before my nostrils could flare inside-out from anger, I set Heidi down and told Ben, "I'm having a moment. Can you please handle Heidi right now?"
So Ben goes, "Heidi GO PLAY IN YOUR ROOM!" Very nice, I totally couldn’t have said that! And I tell him that. That and, "Don’t come to me next time YOU need help with the kids. EVER!" Because I thought that would deescalate the situation.
We leave the house mad at each other. We drive in the car mad at each other; we're mad at each other in the store, and everywhere else that day. But, all those hours of giving him the silent treatment gave me time to think about this life of ours.
Our children, we'd rip the beating hearts out our chests for them, but, by god, they’re working to split us up!
Marriage and parenthood seem like they should go together, like peanut butter and chocolate, but in reality, parenthood is like fending off an angry mob, while trying to program the VCR's clock with dog puke in your shoes. And if that doesn't put you in "the mood," neither will kids.
Ben and I are good. We’re solid. We can choose coordinating tile and grout together and still love each other. It’s them, not us. We'll be fine, and when it comes time for our fiftieth wedding anniversary, I’m going to have the baker frost this on the cake: "Together for 50 years in spite of the children!"
Also, I'm giving our kids the bar bill.
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Comments
AMEN!