Jan
12
It’s the rare blog post that I regret for its honesty, but I do find that I often feel compelled to provide an immediate update when the last entry is Uncharacteristically Bleak. And so: my morning sucked, and then the day improved immensely, thanks in no small part to your comments. JB took me out to lunch, the boys joyfully greeted me at home with their usual blathering chaos, and the badness was swept under the rug where it has no doubt taken up residence with all the other unpleasant experiences that you hope you don’t re-visit on your deathbed.
I never know how to say thank you in a way that conveys how much I mean it, but I’d hate to not say it at all, so just this, then: thank you.
In a return to humor in our household, JB showed me a text message he’d received today by accident. Now, most of us would probably either ignore a wrong-number text message, or perhaps provide a polite “Sorry, you have the wrong person” response, but not JB. Oh no. Behold his creative response (his messages are in green):
Sadly for us all, the no-doubt confused and unhappy Friend of Ruth never wrote back.
Lastly, I’ve been walking by this toy for the last several days and every single time I see it I think LABIA. I’m not saying this is what my own personal labia resembles, but am I just a dirty-minded Liberator-owning smutbag here or is this thing totally pornographic?
PS: It is a pirate hat. Supposedly.
Jan
12
I got in a fight with JB this morning and while I was in the midst of raising my voice in growing frustration Riley came over to harangue me — wagging his finger and bossily telling me to stop shouting at his daddy — and in a chaotic moment of feeling picked on and misunderstood and marginalized by everyone, I barked at him to SHUT UP. To which he instantly responded by bursting into tears.
I tried to comfort him but he was pretty upset with me, and I was so angry at JB I couldn’t even let it go and so trailed him to the other side of the house, both children jailed in the kitchen and clinging pathetically to the baby gate, basically in order to escalate our screechy argument — pointless and poisonous, but I felt like I might just explode into a thousand pieces if I didn’t get the words out of my mouth. Because it always helps the situation to go ahead and throw out a few insults, right?
Eventually I went back to the kitchen where the baby raised his hands to be picked up and Riley snuck dark looks at me under his eyelashes and when I asked him for a hug he reluctantly backed into my outstretched arms and stood there, stiff-legged. I said I was so, so sorry for yelling at him, and he said, “But why were you yelling at my daddy?”
Ahhhhhh.
“Sometimes grownups have arguments, but it doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,” I said, weakly. Was there something better I could have said? I don’t know. I don’t know.
They left without saying goodbye this morning, JB gathering up the kids and sweeping out the door without the usual ritual of see-you-later kisses. I suppose I deserved it, and yet it’s just more evidence of the hurtful actions adults are willing to inflict on each other. Ugly and unworthy in the presence of children. Sometimes grownups fight. Sometimes grownups lose their temper and do stupid things. Sometimes 3-year-olds behave better than grownups.
My little boy who only wanted the yelling to stop, and got told to shut up. My heart beats brokenly today: do-over, do-over, do-over.
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