tending the fires

You know what’s fun? Blowing up when you are really mad. It is fun to stomp around, slam doors, throw things, yell & generally blow off steam. Not only is it fun, but it feels really, really good. It feels like a giant release…a big furious sigh, a poo that’s been building for days, finally pushing out the baby. I know how the proverbial tea kettle must feel when it finally gets past the boiling point into the loud, grating whistle. Ahhhhhh…..

In fact, blowing up like this is so fun, and feels so good, that it rather smacks of a lack of self-discipline and, well, immaturity. You expect these blow-ups from a toddler and you accept them to some degree. Children are naturally explosive. Mothers probably should not be.

I’ve known this for a long time, about as long as I’ve had children. Yet, I still do it. Why? Because I enjoy it. But following in the path of cigarettes, weed, long nights drinking and flirting at the bar, this too must give way to a more mature demeanor.

I’ve recently realized that blowing up like this is in fact, extremely irresponsible. As surely as it is my responsibility to cook dinner for my children, to dress them, to comfort them, to teach them, and to hold them when they fall, it is also my responsibility to provide a household that feels secure. Blowing up in anger at them, at Daddy, at myself, at a situation, at the dog – it doesn’t matter – creates a household of insecurity. And although it feels really, really good to do it, it is part of my parental responsibility to not give in to that desire. Pretty simple, actually.

But wait! I hear you saying, It has to go somewhere! You can’t hold it all in!

Or maybe, Sounds great for you, but I just can’t help it – it’s uncontrollable!

Though I used to spout the same arguments, I’m not buying it anymore. How many times have I been stomping around in anger when a business call comes in and I suck it right back in and put on my business phone “smile?”

Or how many times have I been furious about something or other and begun talking to a friend? I might vent to my friend, but I don’t scream at them. In fact, their calmer attitude and sense of humor makes me feel better by the end of the conversation. Wouldn’t the same apply inside my home?

Maybe it’s not about sucking it in or letting it out. Maybe it’s more like a snowball. You can keep it small and let it melt itself out quickly. Or you can let it roll….and roll and roll and roll.

I was burning some of our garbage today and heard all those old adages in my head about fueling the fire and fanning the flames. A temper is a hot thing, a thing that can get out of control quickly like our fire. Or it can be smothered and it will peter itself out in minutes. How big the fire goes is completely the choice of the person tending it.

Would my home not be better served if I make the choice not to let the fires of anger explode? I think so. And I actually think I can do it.

news alert: i am not perfect

Well, alert the presses, news is in. I am actually not perfect. What? You’re not surprised? Well I am!

This is a post about my husband, with whom I’ve been arguing, fighting, pecking, & generally grousing about for a few weeks now. High stress in our family = high levels of arguing. Go figure.

Now in case you’re unfamiliar with my stance in arguments I undertake with individuals in my life, it’s this: I’m right, I’m perfect, you’re an idiot & I’m now rethinking why the hell I’m yoked with you in the first place. I’ve always had an uncanny ability to turn an argument about, say, a toaster into a litany of reasons why I’d be better off without you, enumerated and catalogued by year and date, if necessary. Yeah, I’m that partner. My readers, you’ve had that partner before, haven’t you? Or, like me, maybe you are that partner?

Jeff has sometimes accused me of “blowing things out of proportion” or “expecting him to be perfect.” Well of course! Since I am clearly perfect, why shouldn’t I be married to someone else who is?

It takes a unique special rather arrogant person to need a mid-night insomniac moment to realize, revelation-style, that they are in fact, not perfect. This is how it occurred to me.

I woke for the 4th time the other night. My family members had each taken turns waking me that night, but the 4th turn I somehow took myself. As I laid there thinking about everything and nothing in particular, in this busier-than-ever deadline weekend, I thought perhaps if I took that time to be thankful of things that were going right rather than fretting over the things that were making me insane, maybe I could get back to sleep. Utilitarian gratitude, it warms the heart of the Creator I’m sure.

I’m always thankful that I have a husband who will support my decision to stay home with the kids (without complaining about it very often) so I threw it into my list. It was then that the thought struck me that if the situation were reversed, if I were the one who was going to the chemical plant day in, day out for years on end, I couldn’t – wouldn’t – hack it.

And I remembered what an amazing thing it was that this other person, the one that I can fight with at the drop of a hat, the one I complain about in my head, the one that, yes, I laugh with and cook for and seek companionship with, but that I also show irritation at daily, would go to work at a job he doesn’t enjoy for 9 hours out of the day, just to bring home a check & hand it over without complaint.

99% of the time, this amazing arrangement isn’t even brought into our conscious daily lives. Occasionally, he will be upset that I don’t seem to grasp the fact that he doesn’t have any time to do what he wants or that I don’t appreciate his work ethic. The rest of the time, it isn’t even mentioned.

Now here’s what I know about a hypothetical role reversal.

Number one, I would mention it and complain about it all the time, and I would basically expect the other person to kiss the ground I walk on if I were going to a job I hate more than 40 hours a week, while they stayed home, made their own schedule, and didn’t get a whole lot accomplished most days.

Number two, I would have to really, really love my spouse to allow this arrangement to exist.

Number three, I would burn out quickly and eventually devise a way to flee.

Jeff has a Major Flaw that I always seem to dwell on in my head, and that is his temper. Thing is, his temper is quick and then it’s usually over and he’s coming around to say he’s sorry. I also have this flaw, it just doesn’t show itself quite as often as his.

But looky here, it seems I have my own Major Flaws. It seems that I am not cut out to support a family without constant resentment, if I would do it at all. It seems holding a full-time job would make me crazy. It seems I don’t recognize the level of love and support that is proven by simply handing over years’ worth of time to another person.

And, most importantly, it seems that I like to point outward quite a bit, while patting myself on the back because I’m not laying blame out loud.

So you see, turns out, I’m not perfect. Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.