Friday, March 6, 2015
A couple of months ago my SM and I got into a
big, rip-roaring argument. I honestly
can’t remember what on earth started this one, but it ended with SM saying
something to the effect that it really ticked him off that I wasn’t the kind of
woman who went around picking up after herself at home even though I am that
kind of woman at work.
Well, that was enough to make me see red AND spots…and to make me take a little drive to cool off so I wouldn’t say something equally as inconsiderate in
retaliation self-defense. As I was driving around some random neighborhood,
my thought processes went something like this:
“I am just not THAT kind of woman. I am the kind of woman who gets it done, just not always right away because there is always something more important that needs to be done right away. I am the kind of woman who does the important things and catches up with the ‘picking up’ later when the important stuff is finished. I can’t help it that I’m just not THAT kind of woman. If he wanted THAT kind of woman, than he should have married some solid, hyper-organized girl instead of this flighty, creative-minded one! I HAVE to be that kind of woman at work to keep things running smoothly, but when I get home I want to just be me. To be chill and get the important, creative stuff done and just leave the picking up until later if I so choose. Can’t I just let my hair down at home??? I’m just NOT THAT KIND OF WOMAN!!!”
Almost immediately a still, quiet voice spoke to my agitated soul, “What if you WERE that kind of woman?”
I had to pull off the road into some stranger’s driveway to give my full attention to this disturbing thought. What if I WERE that kind of woman? What if I WERE the kind of woman who picked up the stray leaf on the mudroom floor as soon as she saw it? What if I WERE the kind of woman who immediately washed her coffee cup when she finished the last drop? What if I WERE the kind of woman who put a half-finished project neatly away when she was finished with it for the time being? What if I were THAT kind of woman?
This was quite a revolutionary train of thought for me. I wish I could tell you I rushed home immediately, ignoring traffic signals, stop signs and cross-walking pedestrians in my hurry to apologize to my SM and promise him that I would never again leave the unfinished Sunday crossword puzzle on the coffee table for days until I could get to it later. I wish I could tell you we straightaway patched things up with a kiss and a hug and a cuddle and I miraculously metamorphosed into THAT kind of woman. But alas, reality rarely lives up to what the Pretty Woman version would be. Instead, I waved cheerily at the perplexed stranger whose driveway I was invading, and because I was still miffed at SM (for whatever started the argument that I can’t even remember now) I went home and crawled into bed, feeling almost as bad as when I left the house for my therapeutic drive. We didn’t actually patch this one up until days later (and, yes, I know what Ephesians has to say on that subject).
But I did continue to quietly ponder that revolutionary thought: What if I WERE that kind of woman? Without saying anything to SM, I started to ask myself that question on a regular basis. As I waited for the blender to churn out the perfect morning smoothie, I would ask myself, “What if I were the kind of woman who wiped the counters down while the blender is working its magic?” And then I did it. Or, “What if I were the kind of woman who washed the love bug guts off the car as soon as she got home?” And then I did it. Gradually SM began to pick up on the little things that were getting “picked up” and I can assure you he is one grateful man, which translates to a kiss and a hug and a cuddle. But even more importantly, I am one grateful woman—grateful that even after 45 years of being one way, I can still learn and grow and improve and become a totally different way.
So, what is your “What if…?” moment?