Conflict.

12 Aug

So much of what I am about anymore is conflict: creating it, avoiding it, minimizing it. Sick of it.

Today’s conflict is brought to you by the husband, and child#2, a female.

‘Ah’,

those of you with one of each are already saying to yourselves:

‘Major conflict.’

But I will digress right here and say that this relationship is a fairly stable one in our household. She has him wrapped around her pinky, and he is perfectly happy with that arrangement. The conflict enters when he realizes that he has not been paying very good attention to the butter on his bread, and decides to interject on my behalf in the perpetual conflict that seems to be my state with said female.

Onto today’s storyline:

He is out of town, but calls regularly to check in and see if I am dead yet coping. I love that he does this, and today I really needed to hear from him, because lots of crap is kinda coming down all at once on us these days, and we manage it better together. He could tell immediately that something was wrong, and asked what was up. I tried to refrain from giving him the dirty details, because he is at work, and after all, I am a perfectly competent adult. So he asked again, and reminded me that he might just worry himself into  a stroke if I didn’t spill the beans because he can create stress like no other. He’s really good at it. Knowing this, I dive right in.

This little boy rang the doorbell today, and started in with some story about how he was riding his bike, and the chain fell off, and he tried to stop his bike but he couldn’t and he ran into the little car that is parked right over there and broke its’s ear off, (yes, he said ‘ear’–too cute.) and was it ours, and he was really sorry. I looked, and sure enough, girlchild’s car had a mirror dangling from it’s door. I told him not to worry, it was a piece of junk anyway, to which he solemnly nodded in agreement, and then I asked him if he was OK. He said yes, he was just fine, and I thanked him for his integrity and he said you’re welcome, so I told him “Have fun! Thanks again! Be a good boy!” to which he grinned and biked on out of the driveway. I then tried to tell girlchild the recently transpired events, and she rolled her eyes and made some snide remark about being white-trash enough without a missing mirror.

My husband listened until I finished the story, admired the little boys integrity and then asked what the problem was. When I reminded him that this was girlchild’s car we were talking about, he told me (that which I already knew) that she didn’t like the car anyway, and she better have a decent attitude because having a car was a privilege, not a right, and did I want him to call her and chew her out? I said no, I really had just wanted to vent because I was tired of her crappy attitude, and thanks for listening, love you, talk to you later.

I hang up, and 5 seconds later I hear girlchild’s phone ring. Then I hear keening and sobbing and cries of ‘white-trash’ coming from her bedroom…and finally silence. I then get a text from husband along the lines of “well, I told her.” And since then I’ve gotten nothing but the icy stare-down.

*sigh* What did I do?

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3 Responses to “Conflict.”

  1. Cindi August 12, 2010 at 5:51 pm #

    Girl we could go for coffee and not return for a week. Found your blog from a comment on another blog and I was so intrigued by your comment…something about teens…my eyebrow raised and click on over here. I am at home here let me tell you. Got 5 wonderful chicks, 3 out of the nest and 2 still in. 17yo girl, 15yo boy…where do you wanna meet for coffee?

    I feel and share you pain and your bliss! Chin up! Breath deep…this too shall pass! Repeat throughout the day as needed.

    • raisingteensraisingcain August 12, 2010 at 6:13 pm #

      Thanks for the kind thoughts! Just getting going on this blog, but have much to cover! Keep me in mind!

  2. lifeunsweetened August 13, 2010 at 4:16 am #

    Love it, sounds like my house.. Oh the stories we could share..

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