When Sarcasm Strikes

I continue receiving messages from people asking if we ever fought. I made a previous blog post about our worst fight ever, if you have not had a chance to read it, you may want to. It will provide another humorous perspective. It was also the time when I considered murder. I’ve been told it’s worth the read.

The consistent answer is still no, not really. After our first year or so, we figured out what it meant “being a grown up” quickly. Including how to have healthy disagreements. That’s not to say we didn’t get annoyed with  one another every day. The fact remains that it requires two people to have an argument and Rick stubbornly refused. I think in another life he was a pacifist. Besides, arguing with yourself is no fun.

Trust me I know this.

Perhaps it was because he had marital disagreements modeled for him by his parents who remained married until his dad’s sudden death at fifty-seven. Perhaps it was because his tender heart refused to say a single hurtful thing to the woman he adored. Perhaps it was because he preferred harmony in his life. Perhaps he was an old soul who already understood the core values to a happy, successful marriage with me. When people would ask what our secret to a long, happy marriage was, he would reply simply while grinning, “She is always right and… we wrestle.”

It took me a while to figure out why folks would give him a strange look when he mentioned wrestling until one day it dawned on me. Not that kind of wrestling, folks.

Unfortunately, I was raised around domestic violence and confrontations frequently ended in violence. That was how arguments were modeled for me and while I knew hitting your partner was wrong, I didn’t know what healthy disagreements looked like. So, in the beginning of our marriage I would scream and yell at him only to be incredibly frustrated when he shut down and wouldn’t engage. Worse yet, sometimes he would leave the house to escape my antics by going for a drive leaving me to fuss and stew alone. It was a great strategy because it also gave me time to reflect. I almost always realized how I could have managed it better and what I would do differently “next” time.

He told me each time I got upset and started to raise my voice, “If you want to talk, we can talk. But, I am not going to have you chasing after me like a yappy chihuahua on my ass!”

It took a few months for me to figure out that he not only meant it, but it was the healthy way to have a disagreement. I chuckled at the fact that he set a couple of firm boundaries with me from the beginning: no violence and no yelling. Looking back, he was exactly right. Once I figured out that if I told him how I was feeling about something or asked him for more help, in one way or another he would step up. Hollering at him was counter-productive (still occasionally my anger got the best of me) and I am confident that we stayed married because it requires two to fight.

Before you start rolling your eyes at my perceived perfect partnership let me be clear. We both got mad at each other. While neither of us had a quick temper, I was your typical Pisces. I was a slow boil, but once I reached the boiling point my temper got pretty hot, and it was downhill from there. It was always better if I never reached that point. Thankfully, Rick barely had a temper causing me to sometimes wonder if he even had a heartbeat. I could count on the one hand how many times Rick’s temper got the best of him. And when it did happen, chances are I instigated it.

Ironically, as we aged, many of the things he did that I thought were so adorable when we were younger, now made me crazy. He snored, farted, left the toilet seat up, left the toothpaste cap off, never rinsed his toothpaste from the sink, spit his chew in the kitchen sink, and refused to put his clothes in the hamper which was right next to where he would drop them! For our entire married life, I would lose my ever-loving mind once every six months and have a fit. It took me thirty years to finally come to terms with the fact that somethings will never change, even after years of bitching.

In the initial stages of parenthood, we both agreed that when it came to raising four humans, it was imperative that we stood as a united front. That meant no matter how we really felt, in front of the kids we backed one another up. If we disagreed with something the other said or did, we discussed it away from them in private. I think we all can agree which parent was the easiest one growing up. In case there is any doubt. It was Rick. He was the softie and the favorite parent. As with me, if he did get angry at them, it was usually warranted. But, because I carried scars from my childhood I had triggers and certain things he was never allowed to say or do to them. I was extra sensitive to how we spoke and the words we chose to use when dealing with any type of misbehavior. Verbal abuse of any kind was not tolerated by me at all. Including when the older siblings would say hurtful things to the younger ones. I would tell them sternly, “ I didn’t verbally abuse you; you may not do it to them!”

I was, however, incredibly sarcastic. Over time, Rick developed that skill as well. Humor became a huge part of our family dynamics whether it be something upsetting or sad we often times added in some humor, to make the heaviness a bit lighter. Some of you may also recognize that as a sign of my trauma, but it worked for us.

It was inevitable our children would also become fluent in sarcasm. But, during the pre-teen years is when they are developing their wit and sarcasm. There is this awkward stage where they are trying to figure out when it is and is not appropriate. Sometimes ending in being disrespectful without meaning to. Sarcasm is commonplace and one of the many ways we interact with each other, young or old. It was inevitable our children would become fluent in sarcasm at some point. However, in the meantime, they have to figure out when it is appropriate or not. As well as time for them to develop said skill.

At this point, the four kids ranged in age from fifteen to six. Bri was the middle girl and around thirteen at the time. Bri was an outgoing always cheerful typical middle child. She rarely rocked the boat and was easy to parent. She was our ray of sunshine even on a bleak sort of day. Overall, our kids were super easy and fun to raise, but this one-time Rick was truly angry with Bri, and he was calmly sharing his disappointment while explaining why it wasn’t ok. He clearly was not happy with her, but that didn’t stop him from telling her since we were sitting down to dinner together.

Rick and I each sat at the end of the table, with two kids on either side of us. He was speaking calmly and firmly, but his red face, big eyes, and flaring nostrils gave him away that he was actually very mad about something she did. Bri looked uncomfortable with the situation since she almost never got into trouble. Plus, she was typically the peacemaker. She was visibly upset that she did something wrong to make her dad angry enough to tell her in front of everyone. While he was explaining to her what she did wrong, the rest of us were eating our dinner and minding our business. I was on high alert as always, the mama bear in me feeling protective; a typical reaction from me that still lingered from my own childhood.

Suddenly, without warning she interrupted him mid-sentence, rudely cutting him off. I looked up at them, shocked by her disrespect.

That was not even the worst part.

I couldn’t believe my ears, when I heard her say in her best high pitched Valley girl voice, “Chill dog! Why you trippin?”

I gasped, initially trying not to laugh at her flippant comment as her ill-timed attempt to lighten the mood. Incredulously, I look over at her and she is grinning from ear to ear so proud of her comedic attempt. She was oblivious to her disrespect for her dad. Quickly, I looked over at Rick. Everything was silent and I was unsure what Rick’s reaction would be, now. The boys are not really sure if they should laugh or not, so they keep their heads down just in case they can’t help it. Rick is speechless, but still he bristled. His look of surprise and Bri’s ill-timed attempt to be funny was too much for me. I couldn’t bear it any longer.

Suddenly laughter exploded out of me in a loud cackle that could have been heard a mile away. I was laughing so hard, it just kept rolling out of my body, even though I knew it was wrong. It just kept coming. Uncontrollable peals of laughter, my head said, “stop it right now.” But it was impossible. Tears were running down my face, and now the kids are all laughing because I am setting a terrible example. Rick sat there stunned, still speechless, red faced and fuming. Finally, he had enough, and he slammed his fist on the table and directed his righteous anger towards me for violating one of our parenting cardinal rules.

He said through clenched teeth barely above a whisper, “Thanks a lot for your support, Dar.”

The laughter had taken control of my common sense, and I knew as I spit out those words I was setting a horrible example, but I lost my mind for a minute only to regret them the minute I said them aloud.

I stifled my laughter and said as seriously as I could, in my best Larry the Cable Guy voice, “I don’t care who you are, that was funny shit right there!”