Sunday, October 3, 2010

He said, She said...

Over the years, John and I have often talked about what a great couple we are, with each other. This morning it feels a little bit like the hypocrite in the Gospel of Matthew where the guy stands up and prays thus:
"I thank you Lord that I am not like other men! I pay my taxes on alllllllllll that I owe and I pray twice a week. Did you get that Lord Twice a week!"

The way the story goes, according to the way we told it:
"If Maryellen," or John if I am the teller, duh. "wants the house painted orange with purple poka-dots, I will paint the darn house orange with purple poka-dots. It is not going to be all that important in the end. Why care that much?"

Last night, we "discussed" the paint color of the house. I want the new balcony stained. I can't have it. He wants it painted...yuck. I gave in to paint but I want the bottom painted charcoal gray...the darkest it can be without being black. He wants it yellow. "

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Screams my heart.

As we "discussed" I was getting more and more annoyed.
Me: "I can't see fighting over this. Can't we try painting it yellow? It's one roller over on the front board and if I simply can't live with it, we try the black? It's easier to paint over the yellow anyway."
Himself: "I didn't realize we were fighting. I don't want to create more work for me. I want to paint it once and be done."
Me: "Make no mistake. We are fighting over it. Whatever, do what you want. It's YOUR project now."


What have we proven here? Neither of us cares if the house is painted orange with purple poka-dots, for sure. Any other normal combination is an invitation to The Cold War part 2.

This is the "normal" type of stuff couples disagree over. I know that if I want to dig in, I could win just as easily as he could. Come on, we are a combination of Irish, Russian, and honestly think we couldn't pull blood out of a stone on this if we wanted to?

I just don't want to win. I want to hear him say:

"YOU were so right! What was I thinking? I should have gladly done what you wanted all along. Who was I to think my way would be better anyway? You are the Decorator in Chief around here and I submit to your superior talent!"

I would stand on my new balcony, hot coffee in hand, on a chilled Fall morning, resting in my victory, overlooking my in spoiled rotten that is.

We are in the middle of a crazy season both as parents and as spouses. Wouldn't the enemy of our souls love to plant a seed of discontent in both of us? Yeah, I think so too.

I woke up this morning, still 100% right. Yay me? Nah. John is the love of my life. In the end, it won't matter one layer of paint who picked the color. It will, however, matter how well we loved each other. Now I fear, we will argue over who gets to give I said, it has been a season!

Let him paint it yellow. It is not really all that important. Unless of course it is the wrong yellow...

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