After dinner, we divide and conquer. Generally, I tidy the kitchen and my wife prepares the kids for bed.
The hind-end of kitchen duty includes the preparation of my son's school lunch. As some of you may be aware: I hate making school lunches. So, sometimes I fish for suggestions, which my wife happily provides.
Monday night's suggestion:
"How about turkey and cheese roll?"
"I thought we were out of wraps." I countered, already mentally dancing like a boxer.
"We are. Just use the turkey slices and cheese." she explained.
"What!? Just a slice of turkey rolled around a piece of cheese?? What kind of lunch is that?"
"Sure," she was being frustratingly patient with me "three or four of them, along with some carrot sticks and hummus, and voila! Lunch."
I was ready to bob, weave, and counter punch. But my mental seatbelt locked up and held me still. I thought about it, it was a darn great lunch; nutritious, playful, easy to prepare.
"You know what?" I confessed "I was ready to argue about it, but that's a darn great lunch."
"Thank you." off she went, fishing for toothbrushes and pyjamas, children in tow.
Within our marriage I have a reputation of holding in contempt many ideas and suggestions simply because I don't like change. I don't want to be deviated from whatever plan I have in my stubborn head. I'm a master at rolling my eyes over her simplest suggestions: adding one more name to a dinner guest-list, putting a sweater on the kids before skating, fixing the leak before the insurance company offers us a canoe instead of financial compensation.
Why is that? Why do I get impatient?
To the person on the receiving end of criticism, not only can it be exhausting, but also hurtful. It is upsetting not only to be challenged, but also to be spoken to in a way your spouse would not speak to anyone else.
Why is that?
It's partly because, at the time, I'm not lashing out about a turkey roll, but rather about the dozen or so small moments which frustrated me before I got home: traffic, spilled coffee, an upsetting e-mail, a computer crash. These are the psychological termites which gnaw at your patience and understanding until you can vent to someone who will listen.
In any marriage, one partner occasionally becomes the other's burden to bear.
We nitpick sometimes because we know they'll listen. They may walk away purse-lipped, expecting an apology, but they'll always listen.
And each time she sits opposite me at the dining room table, listening to me crow, she's saying the same thing: 'Despite your chiding, I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be right here.'
I certainly will never criticize her for that.
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