Wednesday, October 16, 2013
I Am Mature. And I Never Overreact
So....story goes like this. I work late on Thursday's and usually don't get home until close to 8:00.
On this particular Thursday, I was invited to a friends house for a girls night of playing cards and a few glasses of wine. I debated going but ultimately decided against it, and went home because I felt the need to make sure everything was okay there (read: I overreact and am a control freak so I wanted to make sure the teenager did his homework correctly)
On top of it all, I was really looking forward to taking a hot bath and then climbing in bed to watch Grey's Anatomy. And, I really don't like being out on a school night.
So, I ended up driving home. I greeted Ryan and stuck my head into the computer room to say hello to the teenager who was glued to the computer watching YouTube videos about iPods. Typical teenager.
I head over to the master bathroom, run the tub and chat with Ryan for a few minutes.
Thinking this should only take a few minutes...after all, it is nearly 8:00 and the teenager is supposed to take care of his homework right after school, I go to the computer room to have the teenager de-brief me on his homework situation. It's something we do daily so it shouldn't be any bit of a surprise.
But.....it wasn't done.
And I was pissed. Fuming actually.
Even more so when I found out that Ryan took him out all afternoon and now was allowing him to be on the computer, YouTube, iPod, etc. when he still had homework to finish. (This would not be such a big deal if it the teenager didn't have a history of this sort of crap)
So, I start flipping out.
So does Ryan.
We continue yelling at each other, at the teenager. It was less than an ideal moment.
The bathtub is still running, I remembered. So, I run to the bathroom.
And slide on the floor because it is inches deep in water, overflowing from the bathtub.
So, I dump every towel we have onto the floor to try to sop up the water and yell for Ryan to come help me.
He does and during this, proceeds to (rightfully so, now that I have had a week to mull this over)
tell me this is my fault because I am too wrapped up and too concerned about the teenagers homework and that I overreact.
At the time, my thoughts were more on the lines of "bastard" and "asshole" and a few others. Now that I've had a week to think about it, he was probably right.
As I continue with the towels on the floor, Ryan leaves and I'm thinking he's an asshole for leaving me with this mess.
Two minutes later, he comes upstairs to tell me the pole room is flooded.
This, obviously, leads to more yelling at each other.
So, like any other mature 30-year old woman, I handled the situation rationally.
I grabbed my purse, cell phone, and charger, and stormed out of the house to my friend's place where a bunch of my girl friends were for the night.
I drank a couple glasses of wine and bitched to my ultra supportive friends while left Ryan to clean up the mess.
Yes, I am mature.
I contemplated spending the night because I was too sheepish to come home but I ended up creeping in the house quietly and sleeping in my own bed with Mulder.
Ryan conveniently slept on the couch.
Yep, I am incredibly mature.
And I never over-react.