The emotional roller-coaster that is me.

Recently my friend Aubrie wrote a tribute blog about how so many people are so good and have influenced her life for the better. This is just further evidence of her sainthood, something I’ve never really doubted. Aubrie is one of those incredibly good Christ-like people who always looks for the best in other people. Just this morning, I decided I am not.

Last night was one of those crazy emotional nights. I’ll spare you all the details, but between 5 and 7:30 I went to all extremes of feeling grumpy, ecstatic, productive, frustrated, happy, irritated, and whooped. The forte being just after we got home, and Josh and I were trying to decide what to do.

Josh’s mom gave us a John Bytheway CD for Easter one year about what he wish he’d known when he was a newlywed. He and his wife talk about compromising, and tell some funny stories. They did say that they use the rating system when they are choosing what to do. “bowling. John: 7 John’s wife:9; go out to a movie. John: 3 John’s wife: 5; ice cream and walking. John: 9 John’s wife: 8” and then they pick the thing with the seemingly highest score. What it prevents is 2 people doing something neither of them want to do because they think the other one wants to do it. For us it also makes us figure out what we want to do.

For example, last night before we got home, Josh said he’d go on a walk with me, or go over to the clubhouse to exercise. When we got home, I was waiting for him to say he wanted to go, because I didn’t want to make him go if he didn’t want to. “So, what do you want to do tonight?” I prompted him.
“mmmm I don’t care. Do you want to rub me feet?”
“umm….if you want me to I guess I could.” (you should know that Josh loves to have his feet rubbed, and he doesn’t love walking. I knew that he didn’t want to go over to the clubhouse and he know I did.)
“OK.” He said hopefully. (He does this really annoying thing where he pretends not to notice when I grudgingly agree to do something I don’t want to do. He just takes the words at face value and says he isn’t obligated to guess what I’m thinking behind the words – when I write it down it seems much more reasonable on his part, but in real life I think it’s completely unfair and he should have to guess what I’m thinking because 1. I’m his wife and that’s what he’s supposed to do. 2. I should be exempt from telling him what I really want and he should just know.)
“Actually I don’t really want to” (I remembered the rule that if I just say what I want, he probably won’t make me do something I don’t want to do.)
Sad rejected face from Josh.
“What else would you like to do?” I asked.
“Well, I would go to the clubhouse if you rub my feet first.” Now he’s started the bartering which just makes me mad. I shouldn’t have to earn the right to do something fun with my husband! (hysteria is starting to set in.) What does he think I am? His slave? He’s the one who married me! Why do I have to work before I get to have fun when he just gets to start having fun right away! My life is so unfair.
“We don’t have to go to the clubhouse.” Even though he’s not obligated to read my tone – sometimes he does, and this is one of the times that he couldn’t have missed the put out tone in my voice.
“Let’s do the rating thing.” He suggested
And just like that he saved our night!
Out to a movie: Me 3, Josh 5;
Clubhouse: Me 9, Josh 5;
Go on nice mellow romantic walk around our neighborhood while holding hands and talking about life and the future and stuff (you’ll never guess who thought of that idea) Me 10, Josh 2;
eating ice cream: Josh 9, Me 4;
Go on a nice mellow romantic walk around Temple Square holding hands and talking about life and the future and stuff (sometimes just changing one element gets you a lot closer to what you want!) Me 10, Josh 4 (2 point increase isn’t bad)
Watching a movie at home: Josh 8, me 8
“So, why don’t we watch a movie and you eat ice cream from our freezer?” I suggested. Josh didn’t want ice cream from the freezer, then we had to rate all of the ways we could get ice cream. Turns out Josh wanted to go to Nilson’s Frozen Custard – so we went. After pulling on our most comfortable pajama pants and hoodies, we left.

We’ve never been there, but we’ve driven by it, and I’ve been told that it’s fantastic. It’s a crazy busy place on the weekends, and when we pulled up to the drive through, they had papers taped up to where the lighted menu would normally be – so we couldn’t see anything until we were right in front of it. And we didn’t even have a clue what kind of thing we wanted. I asked what a “concrete” was, and the kid working the window sighed an annoyed sigh and said it was a really thick shake. I was looking for something that sounded good even though I didn’t want ice cream in the first place, while Josh was telling me what he wanted. The annoying kid in the window got back on the thing and barked at me that people (1 car behind me) were waiting and I needed to order. I cried. And ordered. I didn’t get anything because I felt too pressured, so we just ordered what Josh wanted and waited in the rest of the drive through line (pulling forward almost 2 whole inches before having to stop in the line again!)

I have to admit, I was not looking for the best in that kid, or even giving him the benefit of the doubt. It didn’t even cross my mind until this morning that he probably had a long icky night – he had to work on a Friday night instead of whatever else he wanted to do. He was trying to get as many people through the store as possible because it was SWAMPED inside. Tons of people. So his rude remark to me probably wasn’t anything personal. But, I totally cried all night long. I cried the whole way home, and in the grocery store where I got my ice cream. Sometimes it’s embarrassing to be so emotional – but I couldn’t help it! He made me feel stupid so I cried!

We got home, I ate WAY too much Ben & Jerry’s and watched Dan in Real Life (Which, by the way, was NOTHING like the previews made it look, but was still good. I’ve officially added that soundtrack to my soundtrack wishlist.) before going to bed. In all, it was a fantastic night – and a sucky night. That must be what Dickens was talking about in A Tale of Two Cities.