Last night, after a crazy-filled Thanksgiving weekend overlapped with three days stuck, or iced-in, at home with all four kids, two-days battle with a bad cold virus (that was still winning), a lovely full day of dealing with a 1-year old and a 3-year old with bad diarrhea, with responsibilities and stresses piling up and out the window, I was bustling around trying to get the kids in bed when my husband asked me to look at a Honda Pilot for sale on craigslist.
I must have given him "the look" because he immediately said, "What?"
I knew from the tone of his voice that I should stop and pay attention to his request, so I turned to give him my full attention.
Looking quiet upset, he said, "Just forget it. You look at me like I'm a chore for you. You never take time for me any more."
I backed away, slowly... speechless. I knew that any words that came out of my mouth at that moment would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Sometimes the best form of communication is the lack of it.
One of my weaknesses is that I always assume that people around me know just what I'm thinking. I feel like an open book - probably because I act like one. I don't hide anything well. Obviously though, I need to be much more open with my husband.
He honestly most likely had no idea how much my sinuses hurt, how my head was pounding, what a nightmare it had been to clean up diarrhea explosions all day long (luckily they took turns, but this meant non-stop action), and how much I desperately still needed a shower - or maybe just five minutes to myself.
But, I'm also not a whiner and I'm extremely prideful.
So, maybe there's nothing to do about our inability to connect this past week, unless, that is, I'm willing to change.
Ugh, that is always the hardest thing.