A long, detailed account of a fight that's not even interesting

Just as soon as I finish telling you how I won't be posting much, I post. That's how I keep you all coming back - just have to keep you guessing! But really, this post is because I need to get something off my chest. And it's not even the rant I've been dying to write about the girls I sat behind in church yesterday who wore shorts so short that they would more qualify as bathing suit bottoms than actual apparel to be worn in public (let alone church).

Instead, it's a boring old marriage post. Fighting in marriage seems very much like a game of Stratego. Except I've never played Stratego because it all seems so painfully boring, so I don't really know, but the name implies that there is strategy involved, which is really my point. Marriage fights involve strategy.

If I were a better woman, I'd be much more forgiving and let the minor irritations that my darling husband provides me with just roll off my shoulders. But I'm not, so I don't. Here are the details of the latest battle.

D is currently on vacation, which is great. But that means we actually see each other, which means we have to interact on a face-to-face basis, as opposed to when he is working, where we are more akin to ships passing in the night. And I find that seeing each other tends to leads to fights. As does not seeing each other. I guess there's no way around fighting.

ANYWAY, this past weekend was blissfully uneventful. I had my cousin's baby shower on Sunday, which was very fun, but that was about it for my to-do list. So Saturday morning rolls around, and L started his wake-up call later than usual, at around 7:30 or 7:45. And without one single word or nudge, D rolled out of bed and went to get him, letting me sleep in until a luxurious 9:15, and thus putting him in the running for Husband of the Year 2010.

The downside was that his generosity made it my turn to get up on Sunday morning. Except enter my parents stage right, to come save the day. They not only got him out of bed when he cried, they took him to church with them, allowing us to sleep in until 10!!! (Here's where I wish Blogger had really cool effects that let me put fireworks coming out of the number 10, because that's how utterly fantastic it was.)

D didn't hesitate to remind me that it was still my turn to get up with L on Monday morning, and I said fine since I was getting up for work anyway. D had to be up to do a zillion errands and mow lawns, so he asked me to wake him up before I left for work. I said fine, and would he mind dropping L off at his mom's for the day so I could take a little extra time getting ready. He said no problem. (I'm sorry to bore you with all the complexities and details, they are key to the inevitable blow-up.)

So last night comes, and we are all out of whack schedule-wise since we'd spent our weekend living hard and staying up until 11. So we went to bed at 10 but weren't sleepy and ended up fighting over what to watch for 2 hours. At midnight, we heard L fussing a bit. This is not unusual for him, so I wasn't worried. But D started to get all head-casey and worried and begged me to go check on him. After saying "no" over and over, I finally gave in to the worry and started to think something might really be wrong, so I went in to check on him.

The unmistakeable smell of a dirty diaper met me as I opened the door. Here's where I'm a bit ashamed. A good mother would have simply changed him and gone back to bed. Except changing L is a real beast these days, and I just plain didn't feel like it. So I went back to bed and told D, "He's fine but he's poopy. Go change him." (I know, I know. I'm the worst. Start dragging out the cross and nails for the crucifixion.)

Unsurprisingly, D balked at this. And got mad. And we started bickering over who would go change the baby. I pulled the trump card (that's not really the trump card because it never seems to accomplish a damn thing) and said, "I freaking BIRTHED that child, I think that earns me a few free passes on night-time poop changes." And then I rolled over and stopped talking.

And then the negotiations began. I gave in about the time when D said "I'll get up with him in the morning if you go change him." DONE.

So I go in and change his diaper, which actually took like 10 minutes. First of all, we have lowered his mattress, which makes it virtually impossible for me to remove him easily, especially when he's asleep. Second, he was still asleep when I put him on the changing table, and he kept rolling to his tummy (side note: that kid is STRONG). When I finally was able to hold him down with one hand and remove his diaper with the other, he was just approaching wakefulness. Then once I started wiping him, he woke up all the way and started kicking both his feet on the changing table really, really hard. I finally finished and put him back in his crib, where he proceeded to roll over and sit up, looking at me like "Excuse me? I want to play?" Went back to bed, fell asleep.

This morning, Sir L decides to call for his breakfast and butt change at 6 a.m. I roll over and nudge D and tell him to go get the baby. And HE HAS THE NERVE to roll over and tell me that our deal was no good because I never officially accepted the terms. I just went and changed the diaper. Oh helllllz no. I was peeved, to say the least. So after a lovely morning battle involving, "you get him", "no YOU get him", "NO I AM SERIOUS YOU GET HIM", D finally stomps out of bed and stomps all around getting the baby up. I don't remember what happened after that because I fell back asleep. ;)

But, he was not happy. Whatever. My mom and dad ended up taking the baby and giving him breakfast, and D stomped back to bed and went back to sleep. I got up and got ready for the day, and when I was leaving, I woke D up because he had asked me to the evening before. And I said, "D, I'm leaving. Get up."

"Why should I get up?"

"........Because I'm leaving and you have to get up and take the baby to your mom's."

"Can't you just take him?"

Steam starts pouring out of my ears because this always, always, always happens. We make an agreement, and then at the last minute he tries to change things up. NO, as a matter of fact, I CAN'T take the baby to your mom's because I didn't figure that time into my morning schedule since we've PREVIOUSLY ARRANGED that you would take him to your mom's and now I have to leave for WORK!

He gets up, pissed of course, since he clearly has a reason to be pissed, and starts stomping around the kitchen getting L's diaper bag ready. I don't even remember what smart-mouth thing he said to me at that point, but I just looked at him and left without saying goodbye.

And now here's the hard part. I'm sitting at work today, not even mad anymore, but my pride is getting in the way of calling D and being totally ok with everything. I did call once, with a plan to pretend like nothing even happened and see how he responded, but he didn't pick up. I know he's probably out doing lawns, but in my current frame of mind, him not picking up the phone is a hostile action. And now I'm all like, "Well, I tried, the ball is in his court now."

I think they should require some sort of maturity test before they let you get married. I probably would have failed.