Raging bull

I can be a bit of a raging lunatic sometimes.  Occasionally, I feel the overwhelming need to just let it all go.  Spout...rant...rave...just completely blow my top and let all the steam come out.  When one of my many hot buttons gets pushed, I quickly and freely let my thoughts, feelings and frustrations fly.  My husband thinks I am too quick and free with my fury fanned words and aggravation fueled behavior.  I often think he is too slow to respond or react.  I suppose we balance each other out enough to keep our kids from being manic messes themselves.  

It isn't like I go off for no reason at all.  Typically, my irritation driven tirades come after repeated discussions or instructions have been given on a particular subject.  For instance, if someone needs to use the washer and/or dryer but find they are not empty, do not throw those items into a laundry basket for someone else to worry about at some later time.  I say, just go ahead and fold the clothes no matter who they belong to or move that wet laundry over to the dryer.  Many a time, I have been so generous as to wash, dry and fold clothes that do not belong to me.  It really isn't that hard and it honestly doesn't hurt to just take a minute or two and do it the right way.  Few things irritate me more than finding a heaping basket full of towels that need folding or socks that need mating because whoever needed the dryer last couldn't be bothered and just piled them up for someone else, who almost always ends up being me, to do.

Turning off lights is another hot button for me.  We live in house that literally sucks up money.  It's an old house with a lot of room for improvement.  There is always something that needs fixed or updated.  And all of our do-it-yourself projects end up costing more than we expect.  While little things may not make a big difference, I'm fairly convinced they make some difference.  To waste electricity just because we can does not sit well with me.  I do not know how many times I have said..."The switch works just as well in reverse"...when one of the boys have left the lights on in a room.  It isn't just lights either.  It's television sets, space heaters, video games.  I'm constantly getting on someone about turning something off. I guess what bugs me most about this is how practically effortless it is, and how even after being nagged mercilessly their whole lives about it, it's still an issue.

"I'm not your maid" has been the opening line to many a hysterical diatribe unleashed on the people I live with.  So has, "Am I the only one who knows how to ______", fill in the blank...do a dish, run a sweeper, let out the dog, make an appointment, answer the phone.  The list is virtually limitless.  Unfortunately, sometimes that feeling of it never getting better or people never learning or wondering if I'm just beating a dead horse or worse, banging my head against the wall gets to be too much.  That's when it happens...the gasket blows...I take leave of my sanity and the verbal spewing begins.  

I say all this to tell another story.  The other day I came in like I do most every day after my paycheck producing job to begin my second job as wife and mother.  We have a different routine here than most families in that my husband works second shift.  So as I'm ending my work day, he's preparing to begin his.  For me, that means I immediately start making his afternoon meal and packing his lunchbox for the evening.  It's something I honestly don't mind doing.  My husband works hard and does so much for our family.  To cook for him actually gives me great pleasure.  But some days, I'm just tired myself, and this continuum of work work to home work gets both exhausting and exasperating.  In those moments, little things have a way of setting me off.  So when I saw that someone had done the forbidden by microwaving canned pasta in a good plastic bowl, well, that lit my fuse.  I launched into an adult-sized temper tantrum, vilifying the culprit as though he had committed a criminal offense.  How dare someone do this dastardly thing, ruining a perfectly good piece of $2 plastic ware like that!  

My husband went about his business as he usually does when I'm having one of these insanely exaggerated, over-the-top outbursts.  But little did he know he was about to get a double dose of my outrageous ranting.  As I opened the microwave, I discovered the wild red splattering of what appeared to be pasta sauce.  Oh, no, it couldn't be!  They wouldn't dare!  Everyone in this household knows nothing is to be nuked without being properly covered to prevent such senseless messes in my...I mean our...microwave.  Without missing a beat, I leapt from the stained bowl to the filthy microwave oven.  "I am not cleaning this. Whoever did this is going to clean it up!"  Since none of the logical three choices for who that might be were home at the time, I went about the task of cooking my husband's lunch, still moaning and complaining under my breath as I did.  

So imagine my shock when just moments later my husband took it upon himself to begin cleaning out that spaghetti sauce splattered microwave oven.  I was right down indignant.  How would the boys ever learn if he did everything for them?  Why would he spare them from having to clean up a mess they created?  Did he think me too harsh in my determination to have the guilty party pay for their misdeed with a little lecturing followed by a few minutes of scouring out the microwave?  

"What are you doing?"  I asked, my annoyance more than obvious.  "Whoever made that mess should clean it up."

To my great surprise, he replied,  "Whoever made this mess is cleaning it up."  Quite dumbfounded, I just looked at him.  He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Funny how with just a grin, none of it mattered.  I guess it never really did anyway.

"I suppose you are the one who didn't fold the towels either."

"Could be."  We both laughed, that laugh that comes from knowing we both had been in the wrong but all was right again.

I'm just thankful my husband understands that anything under pressure needs a release valve or it will explode.  He doesn't mind me letting off a little steam from time to time.  And truth be told, I don't really mind folding towels or wiping up messes in the microwave....much.  <g>