I work long days when I see clients, often returning home after 9pm. I love what I do, so the long hours aren’t hard. What can be hard is the re-entry to home life afterward, especially when I worked through dinner time and that fact is just about ready to catch up with me. And that’s where this story begins.
On the nights I work late, my husband retrieves the kids from their various places and gets them fed, bathed, and tucked into bed. He is a fantastic partner and an amazing father – let me get that on the record first. He also gets the homework done and puts the house back in baseline working order, more or less. But, as we all know, solo dinner and bedtime after a full day of work doesn’t always leave us feeling refreshed and energized and at our best.
So on this particular night, on top of the regular stuff and the back to school adjustment stuff that we are all feeling, there is another point of stress looming over our household. That point of stress is our 18 year old cat, Jack. Jack predates my husband, who is allergic to cats. (See previous point about how WONDERFUL my husband is, because did I mention I had TWO cats when we met?) The other relevant part of this scene is that we are a family of five, plus a dog and a cat, in a house that is less than 1,000 square feet. And we have one bathroom. This becomes important in a moment.
Jack has been a pretty low maintenance cat, with one exception. On four occasions in recent years he has had an issue where he…(stop reading if you are eating or get easily grossed out)…poops everywhere, uncontrollably. The first time this happened we were afraid it was the end of the road for sweet Jack. It was definitely the end of the road for an area rug and a few towels. $500 in veterinarian bills and a special prescription from a compounding pharmacy later, we were able to restore Jack to full health. Times Two and Three, we caught the signs early and treated him effectively again.
Which brings us to Time Four. This time, it’s not really working. Our poor kitty has been living in our bathroom for two weeks. Our one bathroom. He is on a complex medication and food regimen. It’s not working.
I come home, hangry. The first thing I say to my husband, who I haven’t talked to all day, is “How is Jack?”
“Unfortunately, the same.”
“Did you talk to the vet again?”
“Yes, they want us to finish this course of antibiotics.”
“Did you tell them there has been no change, and that he’s not really eating?” My voice shows the stress of seeing a kitty who was born on my lap 18 years ago and has seen me through 10 moves, one husband, and three kids live out his potential last days in a bathroom. Our one bathroom. Where we also have to shower and shave and bathe three kids and do the laundry, day after day.
“I did.”
And I respond by dumping out every sad and mad and frustrated thought I am having about this situation. As I am talking, I see my husband’s hands come up, in the universal defensive gesture of “whoa, whoa, hold up.”
He says, “Well, what else am I supposed to do?”
And it’s like that cliché moment with the record scratch and the freeze frame. My husband thinks I want him to fix this. I just want to process this with someone who can commiserate with me. Classic couple communication trap!
In this moment of clarity, I also realized I hadn’t greeted my husband, asked him about his day, or joined with him in any way before bulldozing in with what was on my mind. My body language and voice are stressed and annoyed. He has no reason to trust that I am putting myself on the same side of this issue as him. He has no evidence that we are on the same team here. I know what is in my mind, but he has no idea.
So what secret Jedi mind tricks do I pull on him to lower his defenses and get us back on the same team?
I take a deep breath. I change my tone.
I say, “We are on the same team here. We are in this soup together. I’m venting with you, not blaming you. This is stressful for all of us. I don’t expect you to fix this.”
And just like that, all the air in that conflict balloon that was about to burst was let out. I got myself a snack. I checked on the cat. My husband poured me a glass of wine and we talked about our days.
It doesn’t always, and won’t always, go like this. But in those moments where all of a sudden you find yourself feeling in conflict with your partner, and you aren’t *quite* sure why or how you got there, stop. Do a different action to get different reaction. Take stock of your own needs – are you hungry, angry, lonely, tired? Name your intention and desired outcome of that conversation. Join with your partner verbally through your tone and your words. Join with them physically by closing the space between you and reaching out. Remember that amidst all the stresses of life as parents and as people, you are in the same soup.
