I have mentioned before that marriage is hard work. Love is easy, but marriage. That is hard.
Cortney and I never argue about money. We never argue about who was supposed to do that one chore. We never even argue about things like socks on the floor or leaving the toilet seat up.
Before we got married, we sorted these things out. We quite literally sat down and made decisions about stuff as big as finances and budgeting to small things like who is in charge of which chores. We compromised on things like the location of the dirty laundry basket so that socks and undies wouldn’t get tossed on the floor instead of put in the basket. And we both agreed that toilets come with a lid for a reason…to be closed when not in use (plus we had a cat at the time and no one wanted to deal with walking in the aftermath of a midnight splash fest).
The one thing that causes tension in our marriage is parenting.
I never feel so far away from Cortney as when we have just disagreed or misunderstood each other in terms of how the other is (or isn’t) handling a parenting situation. And I feel pretty confident he feels the same way about me.
I remember when I was raging with undiagnosed postpartum mood disorders, I wondered if I could ever like him again.
Sure, I loved him. Loved him like crazy. Had my heart melted every time I saw him being gentle and kind and fatherly with Eddie. Every time Eddie snuggled and slept on him. Every minute I loved Cort.
But I when the baby was screaming and he couldn’t fix it, I didn’t like him.
And I am positive that he didn’t like me. I mean, I was screaming and throwing things at him for doing “it” wrong. And neither of us knew what “it” was that he was doing wrong.
I know that makes no sense; welcome to PPD! Weeeeee!
But seriously, when I was finally diagnosed, properly medicated, and going to therapy, I thought all those Blerg feelings would go away. The ragey totally illogical, irrational dislike went away.
But certain tensions didn’t go away.
Since Charlie is small and easy, we generally don’t disagree on anything with that guy, but with Eddie? Let’s just say that so far, he is our challenge. He has my personality (to a fault, unfortunately) and while Cort has learned how to deal with my moods and such (and I am better able to use my words when I am upset), he is not as adept at fielding Eddie’s explosions.
Not that I am either, I just understand where they are coming from better. Usually. I mean, kids are weirdos, so sometimes he is a total mystery to me too.
Let’s see…here is an example…
Last night I went to put Eddie to bed. Cort had gotten him a new nightlight and was putting it in his room while I supervised teeth brushing and such. When it was time to go in his room and crawl in bed, he walked over to his new nightlight and fiddled with it. It got messed up.
We call daddy down to see if he could fix it. I told Eddie to get in bed. He didn’t. I told him again. He didn’t. I told him he was going to lose book privileges and he finally, all sobby-like, crawled into bed. At the same time, Cort announced the nightlight didn’t work and he would go get the old one.
Eddie lost his mind.
There was scream-crying and ridiculousness.
I knew he was upset because he believed he broke his new thing. He was sad that his new thing didn’t work. I told him it would be Ok; that daddy would either fix it or get him a new one tomorrow.
He didn’t stop crying, and he never once used his words to actually explain to me what was wrong. He just got screamy. And sobby.
He didn’t want to read books with me; he didn’t even want me to be there. The only thing he would say was, “Daddy.”
So I gave up and got Cortney.
I could tell he was annoyed that he was being asked to do bedtime yet again, but Eddie was having a fit and I thought he wanted Cort as comfort.
So Eddie is downstairs crying his face off…loudly, and Cort is sitting calmly in his chair with the information that Eddie would like him to come down.
And he sits. And Eddie cries. And Cort sits. And Eddie cries.
“Did you want me to go back down?” I ask.
“No.” He says as he logs in (or off, not sure) to his laptop.
I stand and watch him; he sits and pays no attention. Eddie, this whole time, sounds as if he has a flesh-eating disease.
“So are you going to go down or what?” I ask impatiently.
And that is when he explodes. Or, since Cort never explodes, he gets all firm and grouchy with me. “Yes, Kate. I am going. I’m just giving him a chance to get it out of his system. I can listen to it from here or in his room, and I would rather not sit there with him screaming…” and he trails off as he angrily descends the stairs to put his computer away and tend to the Screamer.
And the tension arrives.
I lie down for a bit to lick my wounds. I know he was justified in being annoyed, plus with a screamy child, everything is at a heightened stress level.
At the same time, I am not a mind-reader and I didn’t know why he was just sitting there while our little guy freaked the frack out downstairs. I felt he needed comfort and someone to explain to him that the nightlight situation was not life and death. I didn’t feel that Cort had enough urgency.
He didn’t feel the situation warranted urgency.
We were both right. And wrong. And whatever.
In the end, he chilled Eddie out, read a few books, and got him to sleep.
I wrote a blog post.
We talked about it. We know tensions ran high and that we snapped at each other because we didn’t use our communication skills in the moment.
As much as we agree and collaborate on almost everything, we still have moments of miscommunication or failure to communicate all together when it comes to parenting.
We are a team. A good one. We have more wins than losses. But it doesn’t come easily.
I would say the biggest challenge in our marriage is being parents together.
The good news is we are always working on it.
The better news is that we are a committed team. We are in this for the long, forever haul.