I snapped at my wife today. I snapped and hated it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
My nostrils flared at that, my eyes narrowed. “I cleaned the bathroom yesterday, and guess what I found? An open yogurt. An open yogurt in the bathroom, on the floor, right beside the toilet!” I flung my hands around, constructing the scene, flinging rage across the kitchen. “One of the kids did it.” One of our demon kids made that atrocious mess. I just knew it.
But that’s not all they did. Oh no. “And today, I found something even worse.” So horrible, so twisted and unimaginable, I could barely describe it. “A spoon covered in peanut butter. A spoon on the toilet.” I shivered as my last words hung in the air.
A spoon on the toilet.
None of my children had come into the kitchen. No one was willing to confess and apologize. So I took a step forward, determined to hunt them down, when I heard a sizzle. The bacon! Shit. I ran to the stove and started mixing the crispy, burned meat, as curses spewed from my mouth. “I’m getting so pissed.” And then I heard myself for the first time. Really heard myself.
I’m getting so pissed. Not a confession. Not a declaration. A threat. A threat that anger clawed inside me and someone would pay.
Someone had payed. For a stupid spoon, I’d yelled at my wife and scowled at her.
I’d snapped at my wife, and yet she touched my arm. “It’s okay, Honey. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. There’s just too many things I have to do at the same time. Breakfast. Laundry. Cleaning. My own work.”
She smiled. “I understand. I wish I could help more, but I really have to get this book done.” My wife had locked herself in her room, alienated herself for two straight days, so she could finish her novel on time.
“I know.” And I did, I really did know. My wife had made a promise to her publisher, that she would deliver the final manuscript in a few days though she still had much work to do. She wouldn’t break that promise.
And I wouldn’t break mine. I would take care of my family. I would take care of my wife. And if that meant watching the kids 24/7, slaving over a hot oven in the middle of summer, doing all the dishes (in hot water), doing the laundry, and feeding our two dogs and two kittens so she could finish her novel…
Then I would do it.
I’d do it because I love my wife. And it’ll be worth it. I know. I’ve done it before.
A year ago, my wife had committed an entire week to finishing her first novel. And I committed to taking care of everything else. Yes, it was stressful. And yes, I snapped at my wife, because sometimes the thoughts Can’t you just write this later, Can’t you just put this off for another time and help me, crossed my mind.
But she didn’t put it off.
That’s why I love my wife. That’s why I’m proud of her. She didn’t put off her dreams. She stayed committed and finished that first novel. It went on to win an award and become a bestseller on Amazon.
So do I regret keeping the family together for a week? No. I take care my wife. I love seeing her smile and cheer as she does what she loves most.
So help a guy out here. That first novel my wife finished a year ago? Well, it’s been discounted to celebrate the completion of the trilogy. It’s only 99 cents. If you ask me, that’s pretty cheap considering all the cooking and cleaning I had to do on my own, not to mention dealing with the whiny children. (You know I love you girls.)
So, if you have a second, and a dollar, go to the link right below this. If you think you might like the book, give it a shot. My wife wrote it, and it’s just as daring and funny as she is.
So help a guy out here. Help a guy make his wife smile.
Here’s the link: Buy on Amazon
|My wife’s kitten, Shadow, with my wife’s book.|
PS: I love you, Kimberly. Sorry I snapped at you today. I know you’ll take care of the entire house for me next time I’m deep in some project. But know, that you don’t have to.
I love you, baby.