This was a through-the-knothole weekend if I ever had one. Lawsie. It's Monday and I am exhausted.
Bryon worked on Saturday morning and took the two little dudes with him. Therefore, he was a bit less efficient while instructing during the clean up efforts of the warehouse. Once the boys had sufficiently driven him bonkers, he brought them home and they played video games until their eyes glazed over. So I guess it was bonding?
The girls and I woke up and made coffee cake and watched The Golden Girls. I told Hayley that we were going to spend the morning thrifting and she said, "Golden Girls and thrifting all day? Sounds like the perfect Saturday to me!" Be still my heart. Unfortunately, I didn't find the king headboard or the two pairs of overalls I was looking for. We DID find a schlew of books (Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey Twins, can you believe it?) and skirts for the girls.
We stayed up too late on Saturday night talking and another Sunday morning passed without church. Ugh, I hate that. Not trying hard enough to get there; the Lord deserves better!
Sunday was... interesting. Our refrigerator took a dump. Two weeks ago, Bryon and Trevor defrosted the sucker and reestablished air circulation in the freezer. However, now the fridge is running warm. And by running warm I mean I threw away all of the dairy. Sigh. So all morning long we crabbed at one another and his list of weekend 'chores' (which he sets for himself, mind you) kept getting longer and longer and his patience kept getting shorter and shorter as he worked to fix the fridge. And then I stuck some emotion into the soup and swirled it up and cried about it for hours.
After the fridge was fixed (for now), we ended the day with an impromptu date to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, which included guacamole and margaritas. Fun. And then we crabbed at each other AT the restaurant. Not fun. Sigh.
Don't you hate it when you aren't clicking with your someone? Like the pink things you are saying fall on deaf ears and you feel like your needs are less important? In our case, I know he's trying to be helpful and reassuring, but it comes out in a way that works for him - but doesn't for me. All of the blue things he was saying back fell on deaf ears as well so he become frustrated. Can't say I blame him. We are both incredibly stubborn.
This must be what they mean when they tell you that good communication comes with time. Like, decades of marriage, I reckon.
It wasn't until we went to bed that my husband said the words that my heart was asking for. Like they were the smallest thing, effortless and easy. Where was THAT twelve hours before? No matter. We made the best of it and both of us came up with ideas on how to communicate with the other in the way that we needed. I needed that, oh my LORD. I was so thankful that we finally got there before my eyes fell out of my face.
Peeps, I am still wounded from my previous marriage. I am wounded in terms of trust and priority. Most of the time it stays in the past. However, when emotions boil up or I'm tired from whatever, the devil takes advantage. And then I live in fear that I am not worth the effort. That I am annoying or unneeded in general or that my 'things' are less important. So when the normal things of life that pull and tug at us, well, some of those hit my old scars and I freak out. I get defensive and scared to death that my husband will change his mind about loving me. Isn't that absurd? He's NEVER given me a reason to think that, but the devil jumps in and pours gasoline on my insecurities all the time. I'm working on this. As with most remarriages, my husband has scars of his own - forced accountability where there should be none is one of his biggest. He was held accountable for things far beyond his control in his previous marriage, so he has trouble owning up now on the tiniest of things. And neither of us knows how to communicate in a healthy marriage - like, at all. All we do know is that we love each other desperately. That we want to get this right SO BADLY. In fact, we probably put more pressure on ourselves than we need to in that way.
And so this was a weekend of growth, and not just in terms of my puffy eyelids. I am thankful. Very, very thankful.