Predominately I've just been feeling intense bouts of rage that are accompanied with the urge to scream at strangers and break dishes. Crazy, I know. This doesn't usually happen to me, I'm the one that just cries at commercials and wails about how no one understands me in this big, lonely world.
So needless to say, while I have painstakingly been trying to shield Elsbeth from any of these feelings, Jeremy has taken the brunt of most of them. Someone had to! And he has been nothing but nice to me. He has been diligently working on his bike to get it in good working order so that he is able to ride it to and from the metro each day, and because of that he has been going to bed around ten or later each night. And did I mention that he gets up at FOUR?
If there is one thing I have learned about my Husband over the years, it is this: Don't mess with his sleep. He is one of those individuals that requires at least eight hours a night, where as I can go on five and be all right. I have a video of him when I was about eight months pregnant and I have snuck into our bedroom while he is still asleep and am attempting to get him to wake up. I am saying all manner of nice and tempting things to get him to get up; offers of hot food drenched in syrup, mountain biking, nothing works. You finally see the corner of the pillow that is covering his head lift up and a voice comes out of the darkness underneath. He says, "NO, It's too EFFING COLD OUTSIDE, NOW TAKE YOUR LITTLE DOG AND LEAVE ME ALONE. I WANT TO SLEEP." And then I can be heard doing what during my pregnancy Jeremy referred to as the "Fat mouse Gus from Cinderella chuckle".
While everyone still thinks Jeremy is a Golden Boy without flaw, and for the most part he is, I am Delilah and I know his Achilles heel. But I know better than to poke it. That would be like poking a hornets nest while sticking out your tongue. The point of all that was to tell you that while I have been a royal "itch with a B" I have also felt guilty about it afterwards because it has always been unwarranted.
So getting into bed last night after Jeremy was already asleep I tried to be ninja silent and slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me before turning on the light to wash my face and yes, brush my teeth. Guess what? I flossed too, yeah it sucks being married to a dentist sometimes. After all of that was done, I turned off the light and opened the bathroom door and slipped back into our bedroom, thinking to myself: Ninja, you are a ninja, silent and deadly. I quietly opened our dresser to extract some ninja pajamas and impressed myself with how I managed to get dressed silently. I then shut the drawer and turned around to get into bed.
I turned, took a step and walked very un-ninja like into our huge, brown bedpost. I heard my nose crack and saw flashes of white light as searing bursts of pain shot up my face. I fell over on the bed and waited for the blood to start pouring from my nose as it has on the other occasions when I have broken it. I thought I wasn't making any sounds but I must have been because in two seconds flat Jeremy was out of bed, had the lights on and was bent over me examining my face. I had to admit that he was the REAL ninja.
As he gently felt my face and asked me if I was OK, I saw the twinkle of laughter and silent mirth in his eyes. Because walking face first into a bedpost is just something that WOULD happen to me. But he never said anything to that effect, even as mean as I've been to him over the past few days. And it was in looking into those smiling eyes I saw the amber flecks against the chestnut and remembered years ago when I was his patient while he was a second year dental school student.
Even though his face was covered by a mask I could see the smile inside his eyes and I thought to myself, how utterly wonderful a person this was, that his eyes can smile for the rest of his face. And then when our daughter was born, we were hard pressed to get her to laugh, but in those eyes was a very familiar twinkle of laughter.
So, in my bedroom last night with a possibly broken nose, I fell in love with the man behind the smiling eyes again. Not that I had ever fallen out of it, but sometimes one needs to be reminded because one can tend to forget and let the little things in life like TIDAL WAVES OF HORMONAL RAGE cloud their vision.
This morning I awoke to discover with much relief that I had not turned into Marsha Brady. I would have suffered it though just for the outcome.