Maniacal Moments

Alright, kiddo. Just so you know, sometimes your Mom and Dad aren't always nice to each other every moment of every day. It's part of relationships, I suppose. It's part of growing together and understanding each other. Here's a glimpse at how your parents get along. 

This morning I was focused on finishing the revisions for my dissertation--feeling pressure to finish this before graduation and baby delivery--noticing all of the unfinished business of the week and making the never-ending mental to-do list. It's my typical Saturday morning routine...Dan has always said that I am not very good at relaxing.

So, I got out of bed and started in on the work at hand at 8, and Dan stayed in bed until after 10. He went down stairs to watch videos and eat breakfast until the afternoon when I went and plopped down a pile of laundry and asked him if he could manage to put them in the machine while he watched behind the scenes of "Indiana Jones" and laughed at episodes of favorite sitcoms. 

I'll admit that I was jealous. I didn't want to be tethered to my laptop at the "Dissertation Desk" slaving away to polish the chapter I could practically recite by memory, and the one that, when printed, would undo all of my efforts in the past five years to reduce my carbon footprint.

That's when I turned into a jerk.

Could he make lunch?

Could he put the clothes in the dryer?

Could he pay his dentist bill?

Could he close the fridge drawer?

Could he do something?

Could he do anything?

(Could you see where this is going?)

I guess I didn't want to be the only one who had things to do.

I knew it was bad when there was a minor cooking disaster in the kitchen and Dan said he felt like he could do nothing right--and then he repeated a few of the critical things I had asked earlier. That's when I realized I this is what the situation had turned into: 

I admitted to being a closeted monster and we came up with some phrases that Dan could say when I was being a crazy person. (Most of which are not kid-friendly; I will refrain from sharing them here.) Let's just say that they were so outrageous (and I realized that I had acted so ludicrously) that I burst into laughter...which is how almost all arguments end at our house.

It sounded something like this:

When you realize you are being a crazy maniac, it's good to admit you're wrong and to help to make solutions to the situation to prevent future disastrous maniacal moments. And, it's good to laugh at yourself--because trying to make other people feel the way you feel is a ridiculous idea.  

And that's how we get along in our house.