Reply #11: Oh, geez, you don't want to know. [View All]

[Dervill Crow]

I wrote it all out earlier and was going to just paste it in my journal, but here is the worst of it. I need some sympathy.

This is actually part of a Myspace.com survey that I started filling out and could not possibly share with anyone who actually knows me or my family.

4. Honestly, what did you do today? Coughed. Sneezed. Played on the internets. Expected kids at 3. They showed up at 1:30, so I LEAPED into action, got showered, blow-dried, and made up. Argued with husband about where to go to dinner. I have a $25 gift certificate to a vegan restaurant, and I'm a vegetarian. He tried a bite at that restaurant and didn't like it. Well, turns out kids didn't want to go to dinner either. Okay, so I figure I'll just eat Boca burgers again. Went to garage sales with kids. Got in biggest fight with husband EVAH. Bedroom door demolished, knocked off hinges. Bloody knuckles. I MADE him do it. Whatever. What precipitated this: He said, "I'm going to bed. You need to pick up your purse off the floor. I picked it up, but yoooouuuuu need to not leave it on the floor." Me: "I didn't leave it on the floor." He: "Yes, you did. It was on the floor. I picked it up." Me: "Did you see me put it on the floor?" He: "Yooouuuuu (jiggling head back and forth like Jay Leno) left it on the floor. IIIIIIII (still jiggling head back and forth like Jay Leno) picked it up. The strap was all tangled up in the footstool and people were tripping over it!" Ummm, what people? He was the only one in the room. Sons had gone somewhere. Me (following him into bedroom): "Don't tell me what I did or didn't do unless you know I did it. I was sitting in the dining room and Son #1 went and got my purse and was looking for matches and put my purse on the floor." He, screaming: "You can't just say thank you for picking up my purse, you had to just make a big deal out of it!" All 6'7" of him blows by me and gets the dreaded purse and throws it back on the floor in the front room. I attempt to tell him . . . I don't know what. SLAM went the door in my face. Big bangs. Door starts bending. Pieces of door hit the floor. Bigger pieces of door hit the floor. He: "You just haaaad to get in my face. You made me break my f*cking door!" .... Stomps back into bedroom. More pieces of door hit the floor, and BIG hole appears. He: "Ah, F*CK, SH*T, YOU MADE ME BREAK MY F*CKING HAND!!!" At this point I am scared sh*tless but want to laugh because that is a line straight out of a Laurel & Hardy movie. He goes out in the garage and gets a screwdriver, which I am thinking he is probably fixinta use as a weapon on me. He removes what is left of the door from the hinges, stomps out and THROWS the door into the garage. He then proceeds to stomp into the kitchen and tears into first-aid kits, which have been depleted by sons. "Where's a f*cking Band-Aid?" Me (very, very timidly): "I have some in my purse." This would be another cue for canned laughter in a sitcom, but this is Real Life. I go in the front room and get my purse off the floor and dig out Band-Aids for him and throw them to him from a safe distance. He throws wrappers on floor. Phone rings and I go outside to talk to Lori. He gets broom, sweeps tiny pieces of door into pile.

I talk with daughter #2 until son #1 and son #2 drive up, then I sneak back into house. Rented movie with Julianne Moore and Michael Caine and some other dude I don't know. It was really good, but I had to watch the first half hour three times and turn on the closed captioning because my concentration was poor and my ears are plugged up. Husband stomps out. I cleaned up the house a bit. Did some laundry. Made coffee and am drinking Irish coffee now. It is now 4:40 and I am trying to decide what to do about morning. I am supposed to be at work at 8:30. I don't want to go to work, and I don't want to stay home. Husband will be home from work at 7:30 or 8 a.m.

So that was my day. The really awful thing about it is that we've been married 33 years and this is only the second or third time we've ever had a fight like this. He is the sweetest, most gentle man I know, but he is a complete jerk about having to be right all the time, and today I was not having it. I hate Mother's Day. My mom died 20 years and 3 weeks ago, and her birthday was May 7, so it's not a great time of year for me.