“Marie! Come upstairs and do the dishwasher!” I yelled down the stairs.
From Denai’s bedroom, “Babe, can you talk a littler nicer?”
How the hell do you sound nice when you’re yelling down the stairs?
“I wasn’t being mean!” I hollered back to Mr. Sexy.
“Was I being mean?” I obnoxiously asked Marie as she came up the top step. She smiled bashfully and shook her head no.
“See?” I called playfully down the hall. “She didn’t think I was being mean at all!”
The sun was shining and the house was smelling good because we were getting lots of chores done AND Mr. Sexy and I had cuddle time during two whole episodes of one of our favorite shows: Parenthood.
I went into the kitchen with my cleaner and Mr. Sexy was behind me. I playfully threatened to spray him if he didn’t get out of my way.
“Don’t spray my shirt! Bleach will ruin it!” He was serious. But I wasn’t. And he didn’t move. So I sprayed. Just a tiny spray and not even really at his shirt. It more went into the air then anythinge else. At that point I saw his face officially change into his seriously mad face and he walked away.
The fight had started.
Mr. Sexy and I don’t fight often. And when we do it’s not usually the yelling and slamming doors kind of fight. I would say our fights are pretty intense though. The house gets quiet and the tension is painful. Conversations are hard but eventually they happen and we work through our difficulties. A lot of times, for me, this process takes a few days.
At first I wasn’t sure what our fight was about – which isn’t a great place to be in. While Mr. Sexy was fuming I was still feeling happy in all the sunlight and clean floors and clorox smelling toilets. But I had to break the silence and ask what he was so mad about. Things like spraying him with cleaner (not that this happens often) doesn’t typically upset him other than in a playful way.
The answer I received was far more intense than I was prepared to receive.
I went through my own set of emotions. First I was hurt and I actually felt wronged by him. Then I felt guilty. Then I was angry too!
It took a few days for us to work through our feelings together and to remind each other (and ourselves) that above all else we love each other. Even if we both think we are right about how to store avocados. (in the fridge or on the counter?)
All this to say: I hate fighting with my husband. It’s very difficult to be mad at him. He is so darn cute! Even when he is giving me his intense eyes.
On the positive side, I like how Mr. Sexy and I have fights. I like when we don’t yell and we can go about our business until we are ready to dig in. More than that, I’m glad that we don’t hide from each other or the situation at hand. The easier route is to tell the other person exactly what they want to hear. I tell myself all the time that’s the best idea to get out of the hot seat. But it doesn’t work partly because Mr. Sexy can see right through me.
So, although our honesty is painful at times, the outcome is a stronger marriage.