I am madly in love with my husband.
Sometimes, I think I must be mad to love my husband, and sometimes, I’m mad, but I love my husband.
Poor Clint. I’m pretty certain that I drive him insane, and not necessarily in that ‘newly-in-love, gotta-be-near-you’ special kind of way.
This morning, with an audience of Clint’s mom, our son, and a cat or two and maybe a dog, Clint and I yelled at each other. He was trying to collect himself to head out the door for work, and I was sweeping up cat food that I forgot to pick up off the floor and the baby spilled everywhere.
I was in the way.
Clint was in the way.
It’s a very small house, so basically, if we are in the same room together, we’re both in the other person’s way. And man oh man can that get frustrating…apparently to the point where we have a little yelling match in front of the entire household.
Sorry about that, Mom, E, Izzy, Georgie, and Sage. It’s just how Clint and I roll.
We yell.
Actually, I’m usually the one doing the yelling, and Clint snaps or snipes or bowls me over with sarcasm.
It’s a helluva system, but it works for us. Not that Clint would agree with me on that…in fact, Clint doesn’t agree with me on much.
We have an old wooden bench that was found in the shed here and I thought it would be a nice addition to our front yard, if only it were to be painted purple. Clint thinks it would be a nice addition to the yard if only it were NOT painted purple.
So what’s going to happen here? What’s the solution to this little problem?
I’m totally going to paint it purple, and whenever I sit down on it, I’m going to smile slyly to myself and think, “Yes! I WIN!”
…Clint, on the other hand, may one day ‘accidentally’ set fire to it.
Last night, at ohhh, about 10:30 or maybe a bit later, I was cutting Clint’s hair. Due to the fact that he had asked me to do so much earlier in the evening and I completely forgot about it until bed time, Clint was…very deliberately…being a severe pain in the you-know-where. Not holding still, turning his head side to side, leaning forward too far, doing the Hokey-Pokey (yes, he absolutely did).
I say he’s lucky he’s got any hair left at all. He says I should have done the damn hair cut when he asked me to. I say I’ll never cut his hair again and he can go pay 15 bucks or whatever to have someone else do it. He says he’ll just never get another hair cut again.
When I say, “What?” I really, really enunciate that T. “WhaTT?” It annoys Clint something awful, but it’s just how I say it. My whole family says it that way. Even my three-year-old niece says “whaTT?”
When I say, “aggravating”, I tend to really spit out that G. Clint says, “It’s like you put a K at the end! ‘Aggravatingk’! STOP IT!”
Clint says “nucular” just to try my patience, so we’re even.
Clint likes to tell me that I need to weed the garden (he’s right). If I actually listen and go weed the garden when E is down for a nap, Clint will come out to ‘supervise’, and then later, he’ll bring the baby out and inform me that the baby is awake, and so I never get very far with the weeds. I can’t pull weeds AND watch the baby and make sure he’s not like, eating the weeds I just pulled.
I forget EVERYTHING, but most particularly, I forget important information that Clint relays to me.
It makes life more difficult for everyone involved, but I can’t help it. At least, I don’t THINK I can help it. I’ve tried writing myself notes, making lists, all kinds of things, and I still can’t seem to remember that Clint told me he needs…his hair cut, for instance.
Or to pay the phone bill.
Or that he needs his work pants washed.
I’m pretty sure I’m ruining his life, truth be told. Because without me, he would just do these things himself, and lo and behold, they’d actually get DONE. Unlike when I do (not do) them.
You know, I’m not really sure how we’ve managed to get this far in our marriage without one of us getting strangled…or poisoned…or smothered by a pillow in our sleep.
Isn’t marriage fun?
Cristen's Corner 