Monday, July 14, 2003

My god has it been a week? Bad blogger!

WARNING: Detailed recount of argument where I come out smelling like a rose...

Had a huge blow-up with the teeming ball of neediness last night. I've been sullen and resentful for almost a week now, my scowl growing deeper with every wet towel left on the floor, every drop of rotting mayonaise left on the counter. Last night, deep into a heated argument in front of a muted "Malcom in the Middle," he accused me of eating all the eggs Sunday morning without leaving him any. I lost my temper for the first time in a very, very long time.

I was sick, literally nausuous with hunger yesterday morning, and woke him up at 10 am and asked sweetly (read: weakly) if he would make me some eggs because I was not feeling well enough to make them myself. He agreed, then proceeded to go into the bathroom for 20 minutes with a magazine. I managed to wash some dishes while he was sitting on the pot. Finally he came out and made 5 scrambled eggs. After he scooped them out on a plate, he asked me to divide them between me and my daughter. I gave her two and ate the remaining three. Plus my toast and half of my daughter's toast. I ate three eggs because I was hungry from the GROWING LIFE inside my womb that is sapping nearly all my emotional and physical resources. He apparently expected to eat some of those eggs. I'm not sure how dividing five eggs between a pregnant woman and a child is all that ridiculous, but in selfish husband reality, it is.

His point in the argument that night was that he does stuff for me all the time that I don't appreciate, like making eggs, and then not saying anything when I eat them all. Just so you know I'm trying to be as fair as possible and give his side of the argument. My point is that he cannot think past himself enough to really understand what's going on.

I hate losing my temper; I always feel silly and vulnerable and out of control. I can count on one hand how many times I've literally lost it with someone, and only twice has it been with someone other than my husband (my little brother and a boyfriend at camp in junior high). But in some deep, secret place, losing my temper is the only time I feel the ragged, raw edge of myself. I imagine it's the crazy way those people who cut themselves with razor blades feel.

In any case, Joe and I are the type of people who can't stand to be mad at each other for very long. We ended the night in bed together, exhausted from emotional expenditure, agreeing that having another baby is a little scary. Things are pretty darn perfect right now, despite our bank account being overdrawn $125. Our daughter is perfect. Our dog is a big slobbery furbag of sweetness. Even our house is pretty cool. So why go and throw a big ol' wrench in the works? We figure that if our past is any indication, things will just keep getting better as each year passes.


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