This post started as a rant about the fight Justin and I had. But I realized that wasn’t appropriate to air that kind of laundry…at least not while he still reads my blog and has comments emailed to him. Suffice it to say it wasn’t pretty, complete with ugly words, and hurt feelings, and for what I think was the first time in nearly 10 years together, I retreated by myself to cool down. Usually I’m the one chasing Justin around the house, shouting like some crazed harpy.
But not this time. I was mad, I was wounded, and didn’t want it to get uglier than we had already allowed it to get, especially since the kids were right there.
I sat in our room working on laundry, watching something stupid on TV so that I could let my brain wander and sort out what was said, and what I was going to say once the kids were in bed, trying to formulate the best passive-aggressive remark to get my point across.
I finished up the laundry, put it away, and started running the water for the kids’ bath. Justin brought them up and, with very few words exchanged, we went to work scrubbing and rinsing them. I pulled Cooper out and got him dried off and into his jammies. I heard Justin doing the same for Gavin. I sat in the rocking chair to give Cooper his nightly cup of milk and snuggle, heart still hurting from the argument two hours before.
Instead of fidgeting around like usual, Cooper looked at me with those big slate-colored eyes of his, crawled up to put his head on my shoulder and nuzzled in my neck. We rocked for a good ten minutes, then I stood up and swayed to the lullabye music playing with Cooper while he kept cuddling and patting me, and stroking my arms, shoulders, and playing with my hair with his chubby little hands.
And I began crying. This little baby, not quite a year old, seemed to know I was hurting and took care of me the best way he knew how. God only knows how Cooper knew (actually, I think He had a lot to do with Cooper’s response to me). But I cried quietly, feeling the pain melt away, trying to not sob or sniff loudly lest I break the spell of my baby comforting his mother.
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