I very well could hide the unseemly life moments, disclose only that which is becoming and beautiful, leading onlookers to believe only what I wish to portray of my life. But I won’t, nope not here, I feel like there’s WAY too much staged and not enough truth. Wives and mothers comparing their husbands and littles to those that they perceive as “perfect” through the smoke and mirror FB updates by “friends” who, if we’re being honest, are complete strangers whose hand of cards are eerily similar to ours but the only difference is that they have a better poker face.

Ya’ll I had a #wifefail moment, {{it was such a fail the hashtag is really the only way to express it properly.}} but I didn’t notice it was a fail until the next morning. Let me set the stage for you..

The week of Thanksgiving has been a blur of rushing to get all concrete orders delivered and invoices sent, grocery shopping for Thanksgiving delicacies, cleaning out toys for future Christmas replacements and don’t forget all the everyday chores and routines that must be kept because they are of equal, if not more importance. The older two littles were invited to a cousin’s home for an overnight stay and to be honest as busy as we had been I don’t think I held a good thirty minute conversation with either of them Monday to Tuesday. Wednesday we had planned on being closed so I didn’t have any employees in, but lo and behold one of our regular customers wanted a truckload to do a patio so Donald hopped in a mixer to deliver it and a pour that should’ve only had taken an hour tops, kept Donald on the job for five hours. That afternoon shortly after Donald arrived back home tired and hungry, the girls came home.

Naturally, I was excited to see them. I missed them. I wanted them to know that I had missed them. Eagerly I enquired of how their stay was, what adventures had they had, did they mind their manners. Not surprisingly, they were eager to share their experiences and stories but while in the frantic race to get to me first, screaming one over the other, they dropped their bags and shoes smack dab in the middle of the living room where I had just finished picking up the remains of the younger two littles playtime shenanigans. Donald hollered, “NO! Ya’ll get in here and go put your stuff up! Your momma just got done cleaning it up in here!”

Nona was not affected, she is INSANELY thick-skinned. AnnMaria, not so much, her skin is thin as rice paper, tearing at the slightest confrontation. I watched as tears swelled in her eyes and a frown quickly replaced the toothy grin that had accompanied her excited energy.

Momma fury. I felt it rise from the pit of my stomach, like hot lava slowly rising, searing my patience and rationale for my husband until it finally reached the top spewing out of my mouth. “They just got home! You can’t wait five minutes before you start yelling at them?” I was livid, my hands were shaking and those two sentences didn’t satisfy the fury within me, it wanted to scream more, trying to retain those screams were nearly impossible. Unfortunately it didn’t stop there, it escalated rapidly resulting in Donald storming out of the house leaving me to feed and get the littles ready for church alone.

On the way to church with AnnMaria riding in the front because Donald had to stay home and prepare the chicken for Thanksgiving festivities the next day, she asked why Daddy was so mad and why I looked so sleepy. I explained that Daddy and I had a long day and that it really had nothing to do with them, she accepted my response and that was the end of it. Well at least on her end.

We arrived home and I unloaded littles, placed them in their beds, put Ni Liao in his kennel, and started my own personal bedtime routine excluding speaking to or even acknowledging my husband was alive. You know the drill, we’ve all done it, sleeping on your side making sure you don’t bump your butt on him or let your feet accidentally brush against his, pretending your asleep so you don’t have to speak of the monstrosity that occurred earlier. While I was fake sleeping it slipped into real sleep and it was during that real sleep that Donald sent me this text message but I didn’t receive it until 4 a.m. the next morning.

I regretted the ugly things I said to him immediately and thought about how cold I was towards him, I reflected on how the whole energy of the house changed when I turned off the warming hearth fire of grace and love towards my husband and switched on the blustery cold front of judgement and rejection. The littles picked up on it and it was all of us against him. How horrible that must feel! How quick I am to grant grace and understanding to a fellow mom who has “had it”, but not to my husband?! I work hard to be understanding when another mom parents differently than I, but not to my husband?!

I try to fit my husband and the way he does things into this mold of me and my ways but the littles don’t need two of me, they need a daddy and a momma! I can love them perfectly in my way just as Donald can love them perfectly in his way, if we tried to do it any other way it would fail because it’s not natural. I realize that Im allowing Satan to drive a wedge between all of us when I try to force Donald into that mold, or any mold rather. I know my husband loves all of us dearly and just because he doesn’t express it the same way as I, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t express it at all, it’s shown by different actions and shines beautifully in it’s own light. We women are so busy trying to prevent mom shaming but we turn a blind eye to the dad shaming we are doing in our very own homes! Let us try to be encouraging to our husbands instead of degrading them for doing it the “man-way.” We wouldn’t decline a bouquet of flowers picked for us by them, taking them by the hand, back out to the field and tell them, “you should’ve picked this flower and arranged it with that one and used this ribbon to tie it all together, now that’s better that’s how you should’ve shown your love for me.” GOD FORBID! No, we would grin ear to ear and place that bouquet in a vase in the middle of the table for all to see! Let us display their quirky love acts as well!