Did you call Bob the painter? I asked R.
No, said he.
But you plan to?
Yes, he said, his tone clearly conveying annoyance, a tone he uses when he thinks I’m calling him to task unfairly. I said I would. Why are you asking?
Because a couple of other times in the last 24 hours you’ve said you don’t recall agreeing to do something we talked about. I thought maybe this was another one of those. My own irritation now starting to show.
It’s not about recollection, he said, and I realized he thought I was questioning his memory. Hmm. Maybe I was? It’s that you think something’s been decided and then you just run with that. And when I don’t do what you think was decided, it’s my fault.
I know the reply I want to give in moments like these. Well, I was clear about it. Or, Just because you don’t recall something doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Or maybe, if I’m feeling particularly snarky, You must not have been listening when we talked about it.
Of course, those answers just dig the hole in a good marriage a bit deeper, don’t they? Mercifully, a little voice in my head said, What would my professional conflict coach self tell me to say right now?
The conflict coach would remind me that what I really want is a solution for the future, not a full-blown disagreement about who said what or who was clear about what. Those are simply unknowable, despite our individual certainty about them. Yeah, yeah, I know.
Out loud I said, Ok, from here forward, at the end of conversations that need a decision, I’ll say something like, “What we’ve agreed to do is X, right?” That way if the decision isn’t clear to both of us we’ll know right away and can fix it.
R agreed and that was the end of it. The conversation was over in 20 seconds instead of 20 tense minutes sorting it out and ending up in the same place anyway.
A tiny part of me mourns not being able to go down that rabbit hole. There’s something seductively carthatic about it. But catharsis at what price? Small wounds that on their own don’t matter, but add up over the years.
It’s not the big disagreements that ruin our day, because there are few of those. It’s those little suckers that challenge a good marriage, the ones that look all innocent and tiny and unimportant. They’re the ones that dig a hole, tiny spade full by spade full.
© 2009 by Tammy Lenski. All rights reserved. Posted at The Year 20 Reboot.
I recall one such argument. We were debating whether it was appropriate to do a quick freezer tea for our children or whether we had to cook a “proper” meal. The discussion should have been about how we balance our work lives with sharing chores at home.
“I’m going out. Can you cook a chicken pilau for the children. The recipe is on page xxx”
“Why don’t we just cook sausage and chips?”
“Because that’s not good for them.”
“So why do we buy the stuff?”
“That’s for when we are both busy and haven’t got time to cook properly.”
“We’re both busy tonight and neither of us has time to cook a chicken pilau.”
“Just do it.”
“Well, why don’t we cook something really quick. I can do my quick stir fry rice with egg, bacon and peas.”
“We haven’t got any bacon.”
“Yes we have. You bought some yesterday.”
“No I didn’t”
“You did, its on the bottom shelf of the fridge.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. Its right there, I know it is, I was going to have a bacon sandwich this morning for breakfast…”
See how we have veered off the point. We lose sight of the issue and instead our attention is drawn to the various challenges that we toss over at one another in an attempt to win our side of the argument.
We could have just opened the fridge door which would have resolved that issue, but that was not the point. The point was that, as Ken Cloke writes, we had been seduced by conflict into having that argument.
I hope you get more confessionals about absurd arguments Tammy. It would make a good book!
This is a wonderful idea Tammy. If I can add to my own 1 minute domestic operatta to yours and Neil’s.
A tiny moment we’ve been working on. The scene – a busy morning, kids, rush, work, dog.
Partner: “Have you fed the dog?” (Checking)
Me: “No!” (Defensive – really saying ‘I’m too busy, I can’t do everything! Why don’t you…’)
Partner: “Can you feed the dog?” (Request)
Me: “No!!” (Indignant that my un-spoken request not heard first time)
Partner “Shall I feed the dog?” (Offer)
Me: “No, … it’s ok, I’ll do it.” (Humbled, conciliatory and back into co-operation).