“If you’re still mad at me, I’m going to be really mad”

(Title is a quote from Homer Simpson, from the episode “El Viaje Misterioso de Nuestro Jomer”)

Becoming angry in response to feeling guilty is not as strange as it sounds. Your own guilt eats through your self-esteem reserves and leaves you feeling really exposed, and so when someone reacts to the situation and the mess you may have made, it feels like an attack. This is really evident if the person already has a tenuous relationship with healthy self-confidence, because they’re already running on metaphysical credit. They’re too fragile to handle being wrong.

Let me be too candid and give you the specific incident that happened today. The little dude was out for a walk and play with his aunt, my sister-in-law. In the course of his madcap dashing and running, he caught his toe on an edge and went face-first into the ground. He now has a swollen bump right between his eyes the size of a robin’s egg, and road rash on his nose and cheek.

When they walked in the door, I was understandably alarmed at his wounded face, but I put a lot of effort into not freaking out or glaring accusingly at the SIL. I know that he was a rushing rocket hellbent on running past all good advice today, and sometimes boys get bumps and bruises.  And to her credit she had kept him in good spirits and got him back home without falling to pieces.

When the wife came home from work, I tried to prepare her for the mildly gruesome appearance of our young fellow, but you can’t really expect a mom to keep her jaw from dropping when she sees the big ol’ knot on his brainbox. Still, she didn’t say anything accusatory or negative to her sister.

As the boy played with his sidewalk chalk, the SIL said that she felt like me and the wife were giving her dirty looks or we were really angry with her, and she couldn’t babysit for us tonight as originally promised. She made an awkward offer of looking after him if we dropped him off at her house across town, but she wouldn’t watch him here.

The wife was puzzled by all of this, and it took me a bit to really understand what was happening. I know that we didn’t react badly or inappropriately, and any ill will or negativity the SIL was perceiving was her own creation. We’ve had sort of arguments before (sort of because she avoids all direct and open problem resolution) and my point has always been: if I feel that something is wrong, I will tell you. I will not use body language, passive-agressive hints, secret smoke signals or mime to address my issues. And, if I don’t try to address my issues in a timely manner, then that’s my problem, not yours. The worst thing for any relationship is building up an archive of past unresolved problems. Besides, I barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning, so there’s no way I can defend something I might have done 8 months ago.

Whoops there goes a weekend.

I did mean to blog Friday, really I did. But I did the 12 hour childminding marathon that included a birthday party and bedtime, so I was pretty drained by 8PM. For the record, the wife gave me an hour or so break during the afternoon, so it wasn’t an uninterrupted shift. Still, much love for the single parents out there. I am glad I don’t have to run the whole show all day, every day.

And then Saturday I helped the sister-in-law move, and that move went pretty well. I may not have many marketable skills, but I am a good mover. Saturday night was leisure night and I frittered that away with reckless abandon. Sunday I was the most tired man ever and the blogging opportunities just slipped by me without notice. So now we are here, and I am determined to write something before I fall asleep. Which, given the late night and restless night I had last night, could be at any moment, so off we go!

There’s a moving target that I try to keep in my sights. I try very hard to balance the challenge of anything the boy will encounter with his capability level. And of course he’s improving at everything all the time, with the occasional startling slip back, so it’s a tricky situation. Let’s get specific, shall we? When I’m preparing the little dude’s food, I used to leave the individual components in their un-combined state so that he can eat each one with ease. so, instead of a sandwich, he would get cheese sticks, ham rolls, toast, tomato and cucumber slices, and ketchup to dip. Then it occurred to me that I should start building up the complexity, so I would make the sandwich, but cut it into many small pieces to facilitate the picking up and eating. Now I’m trying out the real deal. Full sandwich, cut in half. This is pretty thrilling stuff, I know.

I can spend the time thinking about the difficulty rating of his upcoming meal because I have the luxury of time that being a parent of only one child affords. When there are other kids in the house, you’re a little too busy to over-analyze the sandwich compatibility matrix. The same progression in challenge still happens in busier households, but it’s a more organic process. When you’re trying to feed a wiggly baby, you have less time for cutting the older child’s food into pleasing geometric shapes, so when things are rushed, they get what they get and they like it.

Down boy! Leggo!

2 contradictory things about me: I can’t back away from an argument, but I’m an anxious, nervous wreck while I’m in one. I’m like a twitchy terrier gnawing on a slipper. I am trying to learn how to disengage from a conflict that has no value to me, win or lose.

I know, I know, you’re assuming these arguments are husband-wife feuds, but it could not be further from the truth. We do a pretty good job at talking things through and keeping things cool and level here. Yes, there are the rare boil over moments, but I suspect these are unavoidable side-effects to living with any human being, and we recover from these ‘I’m angry and I HAVE NO REASON TO BE’ episodes pretty well.

In fact, the wife is a part of my new fighting strategy. Like the sensible wingman who talks you out of taking a run at that big scary dude who stepped on your foot at the bar, she’s going to tell me ‘it’s not worth it, just leave it’ when I’m heading into a stupid fight. And, I will try very hard to hear her words and hopefully snap out of my compulsive combativeness.

The need to argue until the other person agrees that I’m right is fueled by self-confidence issues. Your faith in yourself is such a primary building block of social interaction that it affects all of your relationships. You fight extra hard to defend your opinion when deep down you don’t fully trust it. So being okay with other people being wrong and not listening to me is another step to take.

Also, I am compiling a list of people who it is never productive to argue with. So far I have:

1. My mother. ‘Nuff said.

2.Pregnant ladies. Arguing with them is a no-win scenario. No matter how wrong they might be, everyone hates the asshole arguing with the pregnant lady. Plus, they are in the middle of the most complicated biological event a human can have, so I will give them a free pass from now on.

If anyone else makes my ‘no argue’ list, I’ll be sure to let you know.