the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Featured community question with yet another reason for couple’s therapy

Today’s featured question comes from user KA (yes, I know one of this member’s questions has been featured before, but I happened to read this one right after a certain encounter, and hell, this member asks great questions):

We’ll get to that certain encounter, but first, no matter what my mood, no matter if the chaos in our lives has reached levels that would deafen Coco, I always say, “I’m great! How are you?” Because no one really wants to hear about all my crap, and there is always the tiniest possibility that the mere act of articulating the word “great” can turn my mood around. Look at how gross I’ve become! Where is the woman who would have slugged a nun over the last bagel at a soup kitchen?

That woman is still here, but Marlo beat her up, threw her body into a closet and said she could come back out in about three years. Because that woman will be needed to deal with the tantrums that throw tiny bodies down the aisle with all the fruit roll-ups.

So. Encounter.

I got back from a workout today, grabbed my laptop and headed into the office. I thought Jon would be listening to his headphones or busily reading a response from a conservative friend on Facebook that would require every molecule of his body to process without taking a bat to his monitor. Instead, he looked up and happily asked, “How you doin’?” Without the Jersey accent. That would merit divorce.

I think I made a noise, something like, “EmmmMMM.” Something definitely with a lilt at the end, to indicate a state of lilt. And then I immediately asked him, “How YOU doin’?”

Apparently, this was an entirely inappropriate response. Because suddenly I am being accused of performing the one act in the world that he despises most. What I did was way worse than grabbing that pen, you guys. Which means it was even worse than wrecking both of our cars AT THE SAME TIME.

That noise I made, that DELIBERATE UNANSWERING OF HIS QUESTION… why do I always have to ask him how he’s doing so quickly? Huh? HUH? HE ASKED ME FIRST. He HATES it when I do that, that… that caring about him and returning the courtesy!

I calmly sat down at my desk, opened my laptop and said, “Since you are allowed to ask me the following question without getting punched in the face, then I am going to assume that the same rule applies to me asking you: Have you taken your Prozac today?”

Winters are unusually hard on the Armstrongs.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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