My husband Dave and I and our 2 boys are a pretty tight-knit family. Which is mostly a good thing. Until it’s not.
It seems lately that it takes just ONE of us to be in a bad mood to throw off the entire dynamic of our family.
Earlier this week, Matthew was frustrated about a group project for a required 6th grade class (where he had to build some cockamamie contraption to fly ping-pong balls. Or something like that). Which, in turn, meant that the rest of us were frustrated.
Then the next night, Michael started falling apart around dinnertime, because he’d been kept up late, listening to Matthew complain loudly about said cockamamie project. So the rest of us were dragged down by listening to a tired, whiny 8-year-old.
Tonight, for whatever reason (perhaps from listening to several nights in a row of complaining and whining), Dave just came home in a crummy mood. Which put the rest of us in a bit of a crummy mood.
I’m not suggesting that we pretend to be something we’re not, especially at home where we should be able to let loose and really be ourselves. We’re all entitled to a bad day now and then.
But on some level, it’s sort of ironic that the people we love the most are the ones who see us at our worst and get more of our crap than anyone else.
On the flip side, which is generally what I prefer to look at, when something good happens to one of us, it’s a celebration for us all. I guess we’ve all gotta put up with a little rain to get to the rainbow.