in which I bear my soul
Have you ever looked in the mirror and really didn’t like what you saw? Now, imagine if you will, this is one of those special mirrors where what you’re seeing is far more than skin deep.
While I may only be 25 years old, I’ve still got a lot of growing up to do. A lot. Despite the fact that I have 2 1/2 kids and have a job that requires maturity, I still lack some basic fundamentals that most people have: the ability to change what they don’t like. More specifically, about themselves.
I’m not writing this to pump myself up or make myself feel better. I’m writing it to be more accountable to myself.
Yesterday, the family and myself attended Matt’s sister’s wedding. Since Matt was a part of the wedding party, I was left to do a lot of kid related things by myself. Now, sure, my Mom and sister were there, but they couldn’t always be there, like in the morning when we were still at home getting ready, the car ride up there, the family-only photo sessions and more car travelling. Being 22 weeks pregnant makes me a bit on the snippy side and extremely low tolerance. No, I’ll take most of that back. I’m mostly OK, it’s just on days like yesterday when I KNEW for MONTHS that this was going to be such a stressful day, I let it get the best of me.
The problems were this – two kids aged almost 3 and 16 months require something called naps. They’re really magical, you see, in that they keep kids from acting out. Mine, unfortunately, didn’t get much of a nap at all. So when it came time to sit still and behave, it was a little more difficult.
My problem was this – I was playing martyr when I had plenty of people around me offering their assistance. I’m so dang stubborn when it comes to the kids. I feel as if they are my responsibility because I created them. It’s no one else’s job to make sure they act right. So when I’m sitting at a reception full of 400 people and Luca is wiggling in his seat, Claire is wiggling in hers and I’m not getting any food, no one is happy. And it shows all over my face like newsprint.
Plus, when I was travelling from the wedding to the hotel, I got a speeding ticket. After I just left a wedding where my new brother in law is a COP. I was going 75 in 65, but heaven forbid I have PA plates. Sigh.
So what did I do? I took it out on Matt. It was his little sister’s big day. She looked absolutely gorgeous, as always, and he was so happy to have all his brothers in one place. Of course there’d be a lot of drinking. I think in all my years I’ve never seen so many blissfully happy people. And there was me – exhausted, stressed, and I hadn’t felt the baby move since 11 AM. I was scared, not listening to reason – that the baby was just reacting to my stress levels – and I made myself absolutely sad.
Carly and Ben took the kids back to the hotel for me after dinner and I started to get in a better mood, but I never really got to see Matt. He had to eat at the head table, of course, and then he was seeing friends he hadn’t seen since high school. It was a great day for him to catch up and brag a bit and have an all around good time. Not to mention he looked absolutely stunning. He cleans up really nice, I’ll have you know. So when he’d get a chance to sit and BS with me and whomever I was sitting near, he’d all of a sudden get up and rush off somewhere because his brother was calling him over to do shots or someone he hadn’t seen in eons came near by.
But I still had a fun time at the reception because I got to talk to my family, especially my cousin Terra, who is an avid Pens fan and just a genuine person. I find it hard to be sad, frustrated, stressed or pissy when I’m around her. So don’t get me wrong, I had a GREAT time. But I could have been better.
And I had the balls to get frustrated when he kept bringing by old high school friends to introduce me. Each one more drunk than the last, and the last was by far my favorite, who had a complete conversation with my breasts. But I failed to notice Matt and why he brought them by. Because he was proud. Of me. Why at that moment, I don’t know. But the look on his face said it all, he was beaming. Drunk, but beaming. And I stood there and was nice and conversed and tried to impress, but later, when it was just me and him, he’d say, “Remember Cory? He…” and I’d space out. I didn’t remember one from the next, one reason being, I’m HORRIBLE with names. If you say, “Hi, my name is Johnny,” all I heard was, “Hi, my name is.” But I’d brush him off when he was excited to see people he hadn’t seen in forever. And I’m sure he was going to tell me some funny memory he had from years ago, but instead, I brushed him off like he was a 3 year old saying, “You know what?”
Worse, when the night came to an end, I was ready to leave before the reception was done. It was 11 and I was so tired. I also wanted to free Carly and Ben so they could get to bed. I don’t know about you, but I would find it boring to sit in a dark, quiet hotel room with two kids sleeping. So I went to go catch the shuttle in the lobby. Matt said he’d wait with me, since he was going to an after party. The guy didn’t show up for 30 minutes and I felt bad making him miss all that time. I kept telling him I could wait by myself, but he kept saying, “You’d just look so pathetic.” And I’m sure I would have. But I really was fine to wait alone. So when it came time for me to get in the limo, instead of saying, “Have fun!” I said, “Please, if you plan on being later than 2 AM, please sleep in someone else’s room so the kids don’t wake up.”
What a bitch.
And I knew it at the time. But I just. Didn’t. Stop. And I only do this to Matt. It’s just all so unfair for him.
Bottom line: his family, his fun. I knew about it for a long time and needed to just plain lighten up. I’m such a 80 year old sometimes. (But what’s even more crazy is that my grandma in law lasted longer than me! She’s nearly 90!)
He had a good time, despite me. Which makes me very happy. And we’re fine today. But we didn’t really talk about it, because I know I’m at fault. All I can say is I’m sorry.
No, I can do better than that.
What I should have told him was that he looked gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. That I’m so lucky to have a guy like him in my life. That I’m so happy for him and his family. I still could have told him that I would have wished he didn’t drink quite so much, since he’s not a big drinker to begin with and would probably feel like death in the morning, but I could have done it in a much kinder way. I could have done so many, many things differently.
If wishes were fishes.
We’re always fine, and our marriage is always strong, but clearly, I need to do some changing. No one is perfect and to strive for perfection is just a path to disappointment, however, being a good person is attainable. 90% of the time, I think I fall into that category. But I just…let myself get worked up and like a cancer, I just keep going.
I’m so damned negative it makes me sick. And I’m negative about the silliest stuff. When it comes to live changing, huge things, I’m pretty positive. But silly, little things? Negative Nelly should be my new name. It’s horrible.
A good thing, though, about being honest, is that I feel better.
Oh, and the baby is fine.
And no matter how lame I look, Matt still loves me. He’s clearly crazy. But he loves me. And I’m so very lucky.
Matt, I’m so very sorry.