Like his own father sitting in traffic or experiencing bad service at a restaurant, everything was getting under his skin. He suddenly took offense to everything I said, the dog did, each commercial on TV, who knows what else. My husband was a sudden curmudgeon and our Friday night was slipping away from us.
"Let me get this straight, you complaining about a bad "day" you experienced (the first one I've heard you talk about in months) stemming from getting an improperly assembled made-to-order burrito?"
"I had a bad day."
"Well was there anything else bad about your day before the burrito because when I talked to you at Whole Foods two4 hours ago you were fine?"
"No. Just the burrito. You know that pisses me off."
"But hours later, we are missing our evening together because you are still pissed about a bad day (a whole day classified as bad) over a fucking burrito made-to-order as you requested?"
I was dizzy and feeling nauseated for the 514th moment this week when I snarled back, "I fucking threw up in my hands this week! You got a poorly assembled burrito and I threw up in my hands at work."
We agreed to disagree, but by that time, our Friday night was over. In keeping with the idea of relativity, it was only one wasted Friday night.
Still curious about my husband's reaction to food service after hearing about an annoying Subway experience from yesterday's lunch, I decided to ask what exactly was wrong with the burrito? I could see his frustration getting reignited as he explains it to me again this morning.
"The guy did not drain the meat properly from the spoon, so he takes this spoon of meat and then starts dumping some of it off so I was left with more juice and less meat than I expected...or deserved. There was way too much salsa, so I was afraid the tortilla was going to break..."
"Did it?" I asked.
"No, but, he did not drain the beans enough; He did not distribute the rice enough. It was a disaster!"
For the record, he finished this disastrous burrito and seemed to enjoy it. Now try carrying that burrito with you for 40 weeks.
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Oh! I've also got infinite wisdom on this one: So you know how the menfolk aren't as readily in touch with their feelings as we womenfolk are? Well, Erik has been, um, pissier lately than usual, too. Easily frustrated/angered, etc. It's kind of coming out lately that he has a lot of feelings, fears, etc., about us becoming parents, and no one ever asks him about those feelings. Our friends ask him how I'm doing, and he tries to be fine with that, because he knows that I'm the one who is actively going through this pregnancy thing, at this point. But I thought that made a lot of sense in terms of why he's suddenly so much more sensitive than usual (and boy, that's saying something). So I've been trying to check in with him on how he's feeling, and give him leeway for his moodiness...though that's hard, because I not-so-secretly feel like I should be the only one who gets to be moody. (I cry almost daily now, btw; do you?)
That's all on that one. I just thought the burrito story sounded sooo like something Erik would claim to be upset over...when really it was something else, like, oh, the enormity of what we've taken on and how much our lives, and relationship, are about to change.
Even Beer o'clock won't solve the problem of a too wet burrito. I understand that one.
I think Catherine is on to something.
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