Hank and I got into an argument this morning when I (for the fifth year in a row!) evidently bought him the wrong kind of Russell Stover's milk chocolate coconut candies he loves. What kind of company sells three freaking boxes of milk chocolate coconut candies??? I was mad at myself for having done it again, and mad at Hank for being so freaking precise in his taste. I started yelling and I called him an ungrateful prick.
Happy Anniversary, Dear!
I later apologized and we talked about it, and of course I wasn't really yelling at him but I was yelling at my dad for all those years of his ingratitude and how Hank reminded me of my dad for that moment, and how in doing so I momentarily turned into my dad myself by calling the person I love the most in life a bad name. (Deep breath.) But the good thing about Hank is he knows I'm a hot head and I don't mean to say mean things, and so once I apologized we laughed about it and he said no matter how I act, he'll always love me. I've bemoaned the fact that I never felt unconditionally loved by my own father for so long I'm even sick of bringing it up again. But it's much easier to accept that I have a crappy relationship with my dad, knowing that I'm unconditionally loved by my husband. I am so lucky to have Hank.
After I calmed down, I also had to talk to Stella, who had witnessed the fight, about how I had been wrong, and it's not nice to yell and call people bad names, and she said, "Yes, Mama, when you're feeling mad, say what's making you mad and you'll feel better," (which is verbatim off a Ni Hao Kai Lan show about not yelling but talking calmly about how we feel). So yes, my four year old is already more emotionally mature than I am.
Here's to calm communication, forgiveness, and unconditional love!
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