The hubby gave me “the look” the other night. Over something really silly and trivial. It’s this look that I have always equated with him being disgusted with me. Whether that’s the case or not, it’s how I’ve always felt. Recently, I’ve been
ignoring keeping it in perspective and realizing he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. So I move on and that’s that.
And I don’t know why. Yes I do. Now I do. I was hungry, tired…And so I overreacted. Big time. Left the room. Sat in the bedroom. In the dark. Pouting. Because I’m 5 apparently.
He came in. Tried to ask what was wrong. If I was going to sit there in the dark all night. I was not talking. So he left the room. And left the light on. How I was supposed to sit. In the dark. And pout. When he left the light on. I have no idea. So I huffed and loud sighed and turned the light back off and resumed my pouting.
This lasted quite awhile. Like. Long enough for him to have finished feeding the half dozen or so kids that were here. And to clean up the kitchen, including washing the dishes. (Yes, ladies. A real man does the dishes too.)
I don’t remember why (possibly because I was a little self-absorbed) but I came out later. Sat on the couch. Tucked kids in. I do remember graciously answering him when he spoke directly to me. Because I’m the better person you know.
Fell asleep on the couch. Um hello. Half a dozen or so kids remember? Does not make for an early bedtime. And yes. Of course that’s the only reason I wasn’t going to bed.
Wake up the next morning. Late. Still irritated. And hungry. Why am I hungry? Oh that’s right. I had a bowl of self-pity with a side of self-righteousness for dinner last night instead of the yumminess the hubby had grilled. (Yeah. He made dinner that night too.)
So, to summarize. I got mad about a look that hubby didn’t even know he was giving me. Missed dinner. Made the hubby feel bad. Went to bed mad. (I won’t even start in on the bad dream I had that night) Woke up hungry. And irritated. At myself.
And you know what happened next right? Yeah. I had to apologize.
I held a grudge for 12 hours over something the hubby didn’t do on purpose. Or with any malice.
Something we would laugh about the next day. And. If I had bothered asking him what “the look” was about. Well. I probably would’ve laughed that night. At myself.
Instead, I pouted. Because I’m 5.
Thankfully, my husband shows me mercy. And grace. And laughs over my silliness with me. Doesn’t hold a grudge. Waits patiently for me to figure myself out.
And then. I get the best hugs. And I’m so glad I’m not 5.