A lot of things about my mom bug me enormously. Whenever I feel myself doing anything like her -- using a phrase she likes to use, making a face I've seen her make, adding the types of overexaggerated mockery in stories like she does (even if it does add a little color to the story) -- I am painfully aware of it. Always.
I can see her or hear her doing whatever it is that I've just done or said, and a piece of me shutters inside. Part of me feels disgusted; part of me feels scared.
I don't want to be like my mom. But for some reason, she is exactly who I was acting like this morning.
My alarm went off at 6 a.m. K and I had gone to bed a little before midnight, but a few late nights in a row had caught up to me. I knew we needed to get up and run (we've got a 10K this Saturday, and I haven't run since our 10-miler almost two weeks ago). I knew we needed to vacuum and dust. But K didn't move, even after I asked if he was going to get up. The window was open, so our room was nice and cold, and the bed was nice and cozy, so I stayed put.
At 6:30, I finally dragged myself to the bathroom to put my contacts in. When I came out with my robe on, ready to get started cleaning, K asked, "Are we not running?"
"No!" He must have missed the disgust and frustration I put into that word because he didn't follow it up with the sarcastic response he usually gives (understandably so) at that tone. I headed downstairs to vacuum, and several minutes later he was asking me what I wanted him to do. I was cranky, and I don't even remember how it started, but we both wound up snipping at each other. We were both tired, both wanting to be in bed, both knowing we had needed the run, and both knowing the run wasn't going to happen.
We picked at each other. The picking turned into shouting. At one point, I finally screamed at K. Literally. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I also knew that I just needed him to leave me alone and start vacuuming upstairs. All he seemed to want to do was keep following me and bitching at me.
As we always do, once we'd had time to ourselves to cool off, we were fine. But in that cooling off period, I was thinking about my mom.
The reason we were up vacuuming and dusting the house at 6:30 this morning is because we have two friends coming tonight to stay the weekend with us. One of them has visited many times, but the other has never been to our house. When I was growing up, only the people who had been in our house several times could see it at anything less than its best. I'm afraid that's something I took with me.
All I could think about as I vacuumed and dusted was that if someone comes over to our house, whatever they think is going to be reflected at me. To most people, if a house is badly decorated, it's because the wife is a bad decorator. If it's not decorated, it's because the wife is lazy. If it's dirty, it's because the family is messy and the lady of the house hasn't taken control of it. If there was a clump of black Piper hair at the top of the stairs, it would be because I hadn't vacuumed it.
I was stressing over something so stupid. Especially since both the friends visiting us are guys. The chances that either of them would see any speck of dirt were very slim; the chances they'd care were even slimmer. Not that that mattered to me. I was stuck in a torturous place between rational thought and irrational behavior.
But all the floors got vacuumed, and all the furniture got dusted.The house still isn't spotless, but it's plenty clean for now.
Before he left for work, K and I hugged for a long time and apologized to each other. We're both stubborn, and we can both have our moments of crankiness, so this was a move we've done before. It was good to know that even though we'd started our day screaming at each other, we were at peace with each other before we left for work ...
... Although I can't say I'm at peace with myself. It was only a 30-minute lapse (if that) -- and my cooling-off period was a fraction of the time of my mom's -- but I'm extremely disappointed with myself. I've felt like crying all morning.
When one of your biggest fears is becoming like your mother, lapses like this morning -- no matter how brief -- are scary enough to shake you up for the rest of your day.
2 comments:
Aw, I’m sorry you guys lost your tempers this morning, but it’s so good you made up before leaving! Here is maybe an encouraging thought? (I always attempt to be encouraging, but not sure how successful I am. :)) The way I see it is that we all have strengths and weaknesses, most of them being passed down by our parents or grandparents (as much as I love my family, I have some traits that I definitely don’t like and wish I didn’t have). We will always be working on our weaknesses and self-control in certain areas; it’s just a natural part of life. Even if you had a great relationship with your mom and she didn’t do a million other things that bothered you, she’d probably still have a temper or be prideful. I think noticing it in someone else and seeing how it affects others is a positive in that it can give more motivation to work on things so you don’t go down that path. You are not your mom and never will be; you have your own identity, but what you can do is recognize your weaknesses and work on them in a way your mom hasn’t. That is just my perspective on it. :)
I agree with L. Keep in mind as well that arguing with your spouse can actually be a healthy thing. You were tired & cranky & stressed, and whether or not that comes from your mom, it's obviously not the way that you often act & K knows that. I've always felt that couple who don't fight aren't fighting because they don't communicate. Don't get me wrong, you certainly don't want to fight all the time, but holding it all in is far worse than just getting it out & knowing when your fight is over that you both still love each other.
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