2-Fer Tuesday! Confession #1

Yup.. It's that time again..

Here's something I've been thinking about this last week..

I really hate confrontation. I don't know why, but I just do.

I'm not one to get angry or upset very easily when someone tries to "get me started", but I can get angry at the drop of a hat over some things as well. I don't know why, but that's me.

Take this for example:

In my first marriage, there were times where my ex would WANT to get into fights. At these times, she'd pick, yell, scream, cry, and try anything to get me going. Usually, this was a day-long process.

Because of my temperment, I'd deal with her issues, and keep on going.. However, the pot was starting to boil.

Soon enough, I'd get my fill, and I'd pop. Yeah, I'd fight with her.

However, when I'd get to these points, I wouldn't be nice about it..

Newp. I got NASTY.

So we'd fight, it would be down and dirty for all of about 10 minutes, and then it would be over.

I'd then go grouse and grumble about the argument, she'd go and cry and wonder why I could be so mean.... You know how those go.

I guess that's one major reason our marriage didn't work out, but at least I learned something from it..


Now, I've got to be honest here. There are three people on this planet that know how to get me riled up faster than anything else.

Yup. My kids.

Frustration over repeating something 15 times just isn't my bag of tea. I really have no patience with ignorance, and it upsets me to no end.

Yes, I know they're kids, and they'll screw up. I give them this, and because of my temper, I do tend to go back and apologize if I overreact about something.

Here's an example of this kind of behavior:

My daughter and youngest son are barely a year apart in age. Because of this, they tend to play and fight and tussle with each other and their belongings even more than with my oldest son.

Last night, they decided to play Hide and Seek for a while. Everything went well, until my daughter decided that she wanted to pick up my youngest son, and carry him from his hiding spot to the "base".

Not being as strong as she'd thought, she dropped him on her way to the "base", and my son ended up jamming one of his fingers. This, of course, made him cry and scream bloody murder. Because of his crying, she then proceeded to yell at him, and tell him that he wasn't hurt, and that he'd be just fine if he'd stop crying (mainly to get out of being in trouble for hurting him, but heck, it was good advice at the time, don't you think?).

I came into the room, and checked out his hand. While looking it over, I calmly asked him what had happened. (I had been standing in the next room, and had seen everything, but I wanted to get their stories, if only to confirm what I'd seen)

He told me about their game, and my daughter's decision to carry him to their "base". he then told me that she "threw him down" because she was tired. I stopped him, and corrected this, because she didn't just throw him, it was an accident, and she hadn't meant for him to get hurt. I wiped up tears, gave him something to drink, an aspirin for pain, and sent him off.

Now, while this was going on, my daughter was doing something else.

I was checking over his finger, and quietly asking questions. She, however, was screaming at the top of her lungs, protesting that it wasn't her fault, he hadn't been hanging on well, it wasn't her idea, he hadn't fallen on that hand, etc...

After getting my son calmed down, I then turned to this erupting volcano of crying and emotion, and asked her to sit down.

Tears streaming down her face, she did, still proclaiming her innocense.

I knelt down beside her, and asked her for her side of the story. Loudly, she began telling me her side of it. Finding my son, him not wanting to count, her "helping" him get back here, his pushing off of her, and her trying to stop him but he fell anyway.

Since (as I'd told you before) I'd seen what had happened, I tried to correct her, and let her know what parts of her story weren't true.

This then caused another bout of screaming and crying.

That made my top BLOW.

I got up, told her to apologize to her brother, and then go sit in a chair for a while and think about what she'd done.

I don't know where the monster came from, but it took me over completely, and with no remorse.


Then, there's this issue I've got with passive-aggressive stuff, too.

Now, I'm no "man's man" type of guy. I enjoy things: sports, cars, electronics, video games as most stereotypical guys do. However, I wouldn't say that I'm the model of manhood, either.

I'm nothing like my dad. Before he retired, he would work nearly from dawn to dusk, then come home to eat and shower before watching TV for an hour or so just before his bedtime. Little, if any, time was spent with the kids. They usually just got in his way when he needed to get something done.

I'm also not much like my Father-in-Law. This man can't stand still. When he's at work, he's busy with work. When he's at home, he's gotta be doing something around the house.

To be honest, I admire his drive, but it's just not ME.

Right now? I'm sick. I've been fighting this same cough-type flu bug for nearly a month, and I'm getting irritable.

If I were my dad, I'd be taking off work until it was resolved. You can't work and be sick at the same time, so take care of yourself, and everything else will fall into place.

If I were my Father-in-Law, I'd ignore the problem, and eventually it'll all get sorted out. Can't miss work, because you gotta provide for the family.

I'm neither of those. I'm somewhere in between. Yeah, I can ignore the annoying stuff, and keep up with my schedule, because my family depends on me. However, if things get TOO out of control, then I need to take some time and get myself healthy in order to keep my sanity.

Somehow, this annoys my wife. If I tell her that I'm going to stay home from work because I'm sick, I get the eyeroll, a semi-disgusted sigh, and a small lecture about my work attendance, and my needing to manage my time off better.

Last night? I got the speech from her about needing to go see a doctor about my cold.

I don't get it.

Really.

Is she trying to tell me that when it's her suggestion that I'm sick, it's OK to be ill? Or is she trying to tell me that this has gone on long enough that she's tired of listening to it, and wants me to get it fixed? Is it that when _I_ make the announcement that I'm sick, it just must be some way of my wanting to avoid work, so it must not be all that bad?

I don't know.

I don't think I ever really will, to be honest.

I just wish I didn't feel like this right now.

Sorry for this disjointed post, maybe the next one will make more sense!