I don’t normally brag on my husband on social media. Partly because when I see others do it, I think, “yuch!” (maybe that is just jealousy speaking) but also because he’s not even on social media so I may as well brag straight to the source. I have a little cold and feel grateful that I was able to lie in bed while the hubs got the kids ready for school. Seeing so clearly today how grateful I am for my husband makes me wonder if our arguments really are as bad as they seem when they are happening in the moment.

I admit that I am still in a state of disbelief that Trump was chosen president over Hillary Clinton. But I am more shocked at the aftermath. Many people and many of my friends are physically distraught over the circumstances. While there is certainly a need for time of processing, I’m hoping for the best and wondering what the big picture will look like down the line. It makes me wonder, “Even though things seem bad now, is that the reality?”

The last time Chris and I had a fight it was actually over my blog. I was so excited that I had taken the steps to get this thing started, and after staring at the various options, chose the $100 per year blogsite instead of the free one. And immediately, up went my first post! Chris was the first one to read my blog and post a comment, too. Later when Chris came home from work, he asked me more about my blog. When I told him it cost a mere eight dollars a month, he rolled his eyes and made some snide comment about wasting money. That damn fun-sucker! I was so excited about my new blog until his asinine comment. Suddenly I was sad, pissed-off, and broken-hearted.

In my argument-induced bad mood I felt like I had to run away. (In our first year of marriage I did actually pack a bag, throw it in my Jetta and head to mom and pop’s house at least five times. The fourth and fifth time we made up before I actually put the keys in the ignition.) I sat on the driveway staring at the trees and wondered how I could stay married to such an asshole. He clearly doesn’t care about me if he can say such inconsiderate things to me ALL. THE. TIME. And I bet he expects me to be the one to offer the olive branch?!

Wait, maybe our last fight was about the clutter in the house. He picked up a small pile of clothes to take to the laundry basket, and I said, “You can leave that there. I’m doing laundry today.” His awesome reply was, “Well it’s been there all week.” Which I interpreted as: you haven’t done anything useful in an entire week AND this house is a pile of crap. You are worthless. I was piiiiiiiiiiiiiiised! I stormed through the house and slammed cabinet doors at every chance. All the thoughts running through my mind were about the unloving asshole I married and how good would it feel to run things my own way in my own house? I also had a few fleeting moments trying to remember what exactly I said in response and wondered if perhaps I called him an ass to his face and started this whole fight.

He called three times that morning. I let them all go to voicemail. On the fourth call I picked up. “I think you misinterpreted what I said today.”

“Hell yeah I did. I live inside my own head with my own thoughts and you live inside your own head with your own thoughts!” I snapped, while open to his olive branch. “I’m sure as hell I misinterpreted what you said.”

Then he said things that soothed me, although the only thing I remember were the words, “I was only trying to help.” Oooooooh. Yes, I can see that very clearly now. But, unwilling to concede just yet, I replied, “Well why didn’t you just say so?!”

It doesn’t matter what the content of our arguments are, the scenario on my side is always the same. I run away somewhere to do my own thinking, and for as many hours as it takes till he is ready to talk things through I list every bad quality he has. The more time to stew, the longer the list of Why Chris Sucks grows. Eventually we find the misunderstanding and get a peek from the other’s perspective which allows us to make up and move on. And it is kinda funny, in today’s state of gratefulness to admit that is how I operate. But in the moments of my arguments with Chris, he seems so awful. I know he’s not. I know he will take care of me when I’m sick, lovingly scooch the kids out of bed in the mornings, run to Publix when we have nothing to cook, and scratch my head on the sofa at night if I poke him in the ribs enough.

As far as America’s big-picture goes, we don’t know what is in store for us. But even though we have a new president-elect, I know my friends will talk to me to see how my day is going; my neighbors will continue to teach their children (our babysitters) to be kind, respectful, and responsible; our crossing guard will help us get into and out of the school parking lot safely; the preschool director will love on us teachers with smiles, thumbs ups, and a new Tervis tumbler on our birthdays; and my girls’ teachers will love on them, teach them academics and kindness, and send home a great big folder full of paper every Friday.


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