God bless my husband. Some days I think if it weren’t for his patience, understanding, support, gentleness and sense of humor, I’d have gone off the deep end long ago. After living with me for years he’s gained this super-sense where he’s able to gauge my moods, at times better than I can, and as such, react accordingly.
Last Monday my school had a snow day. I got to stay home with the girls all day while Liam went to work. The girls and I had a fine day together, but by the time Liam came home, right around dinner, I was feeling weary, irritable, and impatient.
Liam and the girls made a nice fire and, though I was trying hard to enjoy it, the volume of the girls’ voices and their rowdiness and whininess, combined with feeling physically uncomfortable and tired, made me all the more cantankerous. After one bad-termpered remark too many, Liam looked at the girls and said, “Well girls, your Mama’s done gone south on us.”
He and I both looked at each other then and started cracking up laughing. He had sensed my tanking mood and vocalized it before I could and did. I admitted out loud that he was right and promptly told myself I should get over it or just go to bed.
Silently, I thanked him for the euphemism. It could’ve been worse. But, “Well girls, Mama’s being a complete asshole right now, so let’s keep our distance,” just doesn’t have the same ring to it, nor would it have produced the calming effect it did in the way the other remark had.
This has now become a staple phrase in our house; though it was just coined a little over a week ago, it’s gotten much use already. Most recently, I opened to door to greet Liam one evening this week with: “Welcome home (imagine sarcastic look on my face)! Just want to warn you that all three of us girls done gone south, so you might want to get back in the car and drive back to work.” He handled the comment with grace and took it in stride, as usual, and helped make the evening pass more peacefully, because that’s who he is and what he does.