It's the thought that counts
I feel like I've been very down on M. Defarge lately, in this space, but also in real life. I've been thinking in such abstract and academic terms about this whole division of labor thing that I sometimes forget that I'd be having the kid with him, specifically, and not some generic representative of his gender. So this is my clumsy attempt at acknowledging that there are other facets to his personality than just the side that doesn't feel any need to attend to the dishes immediately after dinner is done.
Various eBay-generated packages started appearing on our doorstep last week, with book rate postage and literary return addresses. My birthday isn't until next week, but the other night he couldn't stand it anymore and came into the kitchen in a state of great excitement, handed me a battered copy of Little Women, and told me to turn to a specific page.
I've always wanted a copy of the exact edition I had when I read that book for the very first time, a good 20 years ago. I couldn't tell you who published it, or when, but I know I'll know it by a specific illustration.
This wasn't it, and neither was the other one he'd ordered. But the fact that he not only knew the book, but remembered that specific detail, made me think that, yeah, I could do worse than to have a kid that's half him.
Various eBay-generated packages started appearing on our doorstep last week, with book rate postage and literary return addresses. My birthday isn't until next week, but the other night he couldn't stand it anymore and came into the kitchen in a state of great excitement, handed me a battered copy of Little Women, and told me to turn to a specific page.
I've always wanted a copy of the exact edition I had when I read that book for the very first time, a good 20 years ago. I couldn't tell you who published it, or when, but I know I'll know it by a specific illustration.
This wasn't it, and neither was the other one he'd ordered. But the fact that he not only knew the book, but remembered that specific detail, made me think that, yeah, I could do worse than to have a kid that's half him.
posted by Madame Defarge at 4:43 PM
2 Comments:
Good man! That definitely shows he's been listening, which is more important than getting the perfect gift. At least he's trying to get the perfect gift.
It is important to remember the good sides of things. According to my therapist, that's a good sign of maturity and perspective. When she asked me what bothered me about my husband, I let off what seemed like a rehearsed list of complaints. I then immediately rebutted myself by pointing out his good points.
Yesterday I had a similar discussion with the new mother. She was incredibly pissed off at her husband when he didn't get her a present for having the baby, or for their 5th anniversary, despite her flat out telling him she wanted something and pointed to all of her friends and relatives who got something from their husbands on these occasions. He had the nerve to tell her the baby was her present. I thought she was going to kill him. And rightly so. Apparently they ended up having a very serious discussion about consideration. But after we both spent time ranting about our respective spouses, we both ended up conceding that they are still good people, and much better than some other examples we have in our lives. It's good to keep things in perspective.
That said, I find nothing wrong with venting and discussing the things that bother you. I've kind of adopted the one night rule. I tend to brood on things more than a normal person, so if something's bothering me, I let it go for a night before i bring it up to the spouse. If it's still bothering me after a day, it must be worthy of attention. Even if it's something i'm being unreasonable about, then I need to be told that I'm being unreasonable so I can deal with it. Or sometimes I just need someone to hear me out and tell me i'm not crazy for feeling the way I do. I think that's keeping it in perspective too.
That's what friends are for. ;-)
I like your one night rule. My problem would be keeping a lid on it for a whole night. Sometimes the space between my temper and my mouth is too short.
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