I feel the need to elaborate on a few incidences from last weekend. This is a chronic struggle in our household. Maybe it is in yours too.
You see, about 18 years ago I, an extrovert, married an introvert. But he is not just introverted. He is also non-verbal (this is not an official diagnosis). I honestly think that he has a quota of how many words he should have to say each day. When we were first married, it was 20. 20 Words! 18 years later, I think it is maybe 50. This is not a lot to work with but I make do. As an extrovert and an over-communicator, myself, I make up for this by talking for both of us. Sometimes I do this in our 2-way communication conversations too. Yes, he appreciates this.
So last weekend, as I have previously blogged about, we experienced one of those couples communication issues. As I mentioned, I said some things that I was not proud of. Let me explain. We were traveling home from the hike that we had gone on. The GPS said that we would arrive at the church at 4pm, which is exactly when I needed to meet others there to set up. I had told my husband that we had to go right to the church and that he could not go home to "change his shoes" (which we both knew was a lie because you wouldn't go home and only change your shoes if you could get away with ditching your 15 pounds of extra snow clothes. I knew that this is what he would do and that we would be late opening up the church for the helpers.)
So on the way home, the GPS adjusts and we are going to get to the church at 3:55 and I realize that we are going a different way home then normal and that we might be able to swing by our house first.
Let me see if I can explain. We live between 2 freeway exits (but they are different freeways). We usually come home on the 70, which means we drive by the church first. This is why I said, "We have to go to the church first." But if you are coming in on the 270 then our house is on the way to the church and you might be able to swing home and, I don't know, change your shoes, and get to the church on time.
So as we are approaching our exit on the 270, I say, "Hey, this is Broad St, you are getting off, right?" He kind of ignores me.
I sit up more. "Why don't you get off here? Then we can run home first."
As we are passing the exit, he irritatedly says, "You said we have to go to the church first."
This is when I Lost. My. Mind.
"What in the...why wouldn't you get off there? We could have stopped at home first and you could have "changed your shoes"? We could have grabbed the decorations... we would have driven right by our house on the way to the church (my face is getting red, I feel this great amount of frustration rushing forth). It was the perfect compromise! WHY DIDN'T YOU GET OFF THERE?"
Again, he coolly says, "You said we had to go to the church first."
Me: What is the matter with you? I didn't know we were going to pass that exit first. We never come this way. (This part is at a very elevated volume, which isn't very normal for me, and my kids are cowering in the back as one of my eyeballs is about to bulge out of my head in frustration.) Why didn't you say, 'Hey, Christina, why don't we get off here and hit the house first?'
Him: I thought you knew where we were.
Me: Would it kill you to give me information that I might (or might not) have already known? (My emotions are elevating at a rapid pace...) YOU HAVE MADE ME INTO THIS EVIL DICTATOR! WE COULD HAVE COMPROMISED IF YOU HAD JUST TOLD ME...
Nothing. He he says nothing and I am contemplating banging my head against the dash.
We ended up dropping him off at the church to start setting up tables and I still had to run home to get the decorations...and his shoes. We needed a time-out anyway.
So then later that night, he slices his finger and we have to go to the ER. We don't live in a place where kids should be at the ER with you, especially at that time of night, but it is only a mile away and my neighbor was watching out for them. So while I was quickly getting ready to go to the ER, he had the kids get to bed.
At the ER I said, "The kids are good, right? They will call us if they need something, right?
Him: I had them go to bed.
The next morning, the kids say, "Where were you? We came downstairs and couldn't find you."
I turn to the husband and say, "Didn't you tell them that we were going to the ER?"
Him: I told them to go to bed.
I look at the ground contemplating a response here because I am in a better frame of mind than yesterday. I think, "Man, when my sister and I were little and my parents weren't home for a long time, we called the police." Yep, that is what we did. I still remember both looks (surprise and then "you girls are dead meat!" - those 2 looks) on my mom's face when she came home and Officer Bill was standing in our doorway taking notes on his notepad.
Thank goodness that our kids aren't as smart as my sister and me.
So I let this one go but I think the husband knew that I may have a point about communicating. (Not that he would tell me that, but I think I saw something flicker in his eyes.)
After 18 years, I have learned to live with this drought in communication and I have found clever ways to make him talk or to get the "full" story. We make it work and we love each other, although he might spend his nights plotting how to kill me. I can't be sure.
Maybe you have the same problem in your house?
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