Strategic Retreat!

Mood: Neutral. Don’t laugh, that’s the best description I can come up with right now. Not good or bad, just meh.

Listening to: My Daughter play Spiderman on the PS2

One of the greatest skills you can employ when you’re married is knowing when to throw in the towel and make a strategic retreat. No, I’m not talking about leaving your spouse, I’m talking about the moment when you realize that logic isn’t working anymore and anything you say will either be misinterpreted or will lead to a much larger fight involving screaming and possibly throwing things. This, my friends, is the best time to remove yourself for a few minutes and cool down.

Yesterday, we had such a situation. Daddy G and I had a dinner with some friends of our family that had come to Bangalore. Daddy G came home from the US the day before and was still fighting jet lag pretty badly. He was, however, up all day and seemed to be up to going out to dinner. We don’t get too many friends (even new ones we don’t really know) drop by, so I really wanted to make this happen and since he had been gone for 2 weeks, I really wanted him along too. I did tell him earlier that he didn’t have to if he didn’t feel up to it. He assured me he did. At 5:00, Daddy G passed out from tiredness. I figured if he took a half hour nap, he would be fine. We roused him at 5:30 to get ready to go. He proceeded to pick on my clothing choices (and whether or not I cared if I wore a band tee or an Indian top), and his kids clothes and hair. I pretty much brushed it off because everyone can be grumpy when they wake up. 

Daddy G then proceeded to flip the hell out when I tried to call my friends and confirm and didn’t know their last names, making it difficult for the person in the hotel to confirm I knew them. They are friends of my Aunt’s, so I was only told their first names. I got a little irritated then because I hate it when Daddy G flips the hell out for little things. I yelled back a little and he backed down. As we were leaving, my daughter wanted to bring along a marker and a piece of paper to write about her evening. I think she was afraid she would be bored, as these folks don’t have kids. Daddy G told her no and she talked back. He then started screaming about nothing at all. He was super out of control.

It was exactly this moment when I realized that there was no way he could get through the evening in the state he was in. I told him that I wanted him to go back to bed and sleep it off. I wasn’t mad, but we couldn’t be out in public with him flying off the handle about everything. He stomped off muttering and cursing under his breath. The kids and I took a deep breath and headed out the door. The best option at that point for everyone was to just change the plan and just roll with how it was.

We ended up having a lovely evening (and Daddy G got some much needed sleep!). Looking back, asking him to stay home was the right choice. Had I fought with him at all at that point, it would have turned into an epic battle that would have been pointless and probably would have scared the crap out of our kids. Sometimes, you just have to beat a strategic retreat.

When I got home, I woke Daddy G up and tried to get him to eat something as he hadn’t had dinner.  He asked for coffee, which I got for him. He got up and started doing a little bit of work. When Daddy G is mad, I pretty much just let him grumble/sulk/pout until he’s ready to talk about it. Bothering him about it and picking has never done me any good at all.  He will open up when he’s damn good and ready.  The first thing he told me was that he was really mad when I asked him to stay home, even though he knew it was the right call at the time. Looking back, it really was the best call because while the evening was pleasant, it did contain several unexpected turns that definitely would have set Daddy G off. The thing was, he still seemed pissed. When I asked him about it, he said he wouldn’t have worked from home that day if we weren’t going out to dinner. He started looking a little sheepish. This made me mad and I decided to insert some reality into the conversation. I told him that people who had just flown around the world had no business being at work the next day anyway. Luckily, Daddy G had a little bit of sanity from his extra sleep and tried to backtrack and say he was going to stay home anyways.  Whatever, ya work a holic!

Sometimes, it’s best to confront your significant other; sometimes a strategic retreat is much better than World War III. I’d venture to say that if your spouse is absolutely postal, for whatever reason, in front of your kids, it’s just not worth it, no matter how much you want to scream back.

We haven’t had too many situations that have reached this level of defcon, but the negative half of the coin that is getting comfortable with your spouse is that you feel much more comfortable saying what you mean and confronting him or her when needed.  It’s happened much more for us recently. Moving to India has brought on a whole new level of comfort and reliance on each other, and also a whole new comfort level about disagreeing.

Becky

Holding me Down

Mood: Crappy.

Listening to: I’ll Be – Edwin McCain. Don’t worry, I’m not here to be weepy.

So I never understood when people said that their significant other holds them down. Please folks, no 50 Shades of Grey references, I’m sick of em. 

I’m half way through the latest stint of Daddy G flying off to the US to be around everything I miss and some specific people I miss too. I guess that sounds a little bitter – which is not what I was going for. Today has been a crappy day in that I’ve talked to my mom, Daddy G, some beloved cousins, and a friend and I feel like shit anyway. I’m lonely as hell. Talking to people you miss just doesn’t always help. Sometimes it makes the ache worse.

Thanks to some issues I can’t seem to leave at the baggage carousel at the airport, I tend to mentally freak out when Daddy G and I aren’t around each other for long periods of time. I’m not talking a weekend, I’m talking weeks at a time.  I end up in some very dark, bad mental spaces that aren’t healthy or productive for me to visit. I lasted 2 days this time before I gave in and started letting my mind wander. And just like that, I get it. If it’s just me, I tend to feel unanchored and destructive. Eating seems less important, spending time doing constructively just doesn’t seem to matter, I just float. It makes it hard for me to be a good mom to my kids. So I shove it down in a little mental compartment until they go to bed, and then it runs wild.

I get it now when people say that have someone that holds them down. That is what Daddy G is for me. He’s been an amazing influence in my life and almost always has my back. Even when we’re busy, or have nothing to say, or even are fighting, he’s there for me and keeps me centered as to what’s good for our family. He’s there to pull me out of my mental funk or call me on not doing what needs to be done.

The times when he’s not here, it terrifies me what I would be like if the good universe forbid we get divorced or he dies before we’re old. The man holds me down and I love him for it.

Becky

Boob Variations

Listening to: Silence, strangely enough.

Mood: On.

Daddy G and I were having one of our chats in bed before falling asleep recently, and got to talking about boobs. And please, no harassment about calling them boobs. If I want to talk about breasts, I’ll go find my gyno, mmkay? Anyhow, this is one of the few times when I have Daddy G’s undivided attention, so the conversations are usually pretty entertaining.

Daddy G is an unapologetic (yet very much closeted, thanks to being Indian) boob guy. He has been for as long as I’ve known him, which is going on 12 years now.  For some reason, we got to talking about how men have a tendency to look at other women and compare and fantasize. Specifically at boobs, because that’s what Daddy G is most interested in.

This has never bothered me a bit. I have a rule that as long as it’s just looking and not touching, you’re home free.  He observed that it seemed to be strictly a guy thing and wondered what women have to compare and fantasize about. He even ventured that women don’t do that, because after all, what outward body part do we have to do that with?

I looked at him amused for a minute and then said that yes, I think women do that quite a bit more often than he thinks.  “But with what?” was his stuttered, curious reply. I admitted that being ladies, we probably don’t size up every.single.last. man we see on the street. Or sometimes we do, because when you gotta have it, you look at everyone.  This brought uncomfortable laugh from him because women being overtly sexual? Makes the man damn uncomfortable. I went on to say that we do occasionally wonder what a guy is packing in those jeans. After all, no two packages are wrapped quite the same. I then countered that I didn’t see what was so fascinating about boobs. They’re not all that different aside from obvious size differences.

Daddy G looked amazed that I didn’t get this and then launched into no fewer than 15 different variations in boobs that boob guys pay attention to. I can’t even remember them all because I was rolling on the ground laughing.

Mother nature saw fit to curse me with big boobs after I had my kids.In case you didn't notice, I’m pretty unimpressed with the whole thing. The funny thing is, Daddy G doesn't get all that crazy about mine unless we’re outside and my shirt is either too tight, too low cut, or see through, and not in a good way. In a quietly hissed “Why did you wear that shirt outside? All the guys on the street are staring!” way. Boob guy indeed.

What do you think ladies? Am I the only one who wonders occasionally what a guy is packing in those slacks? Gentlemen, are there really that many variations on boobs, asses, and legs?  Weigh in.

Becky