There’s a rhythm to life in this house these days, one to which I’ve become fairly accustomed since two of our three chicks have left the nest. Granted, one of those two is likely to return for at least a while after she graduates, but most days, there is only one chick still in the nest and it’s not exactly what he’d choose for himself if he had better options.
Being a young man of almost twenty-four years, Jake is understandably not always happy to still be here. His older and younger siblings are on different paths than his, ones that lead to more frequent independence and adventure. I’m sure it’s often hard being the one who marches to a different drum. But living at home is his best option right now, and I do my best to encourage and support him whenever possible. He holds down a respectable job. He doesn’t drink other than socially and comes home every night. And he always gives us the courtesy of telling us where he’s going. He’s also a slob if left unchecked, and would never do a household chore without first being told. He eats all of the junk food and little of the good food I stock in our cupboards. He worries me when I see just how much Mountain Dew he consumes every day. I do my best to be patient with him. After all, as I mentioned, he is a young man of almost twenty-four years and that patience sometimes requires an extra effort. He’s not exactly all about a tidy house, making his bed, or keeping up on his laundry. I try to give him some leeway while reminding him that living under our roof requires certain contributions on his part.
I can also attest to the fact that being the wife and the mom, and the only female in the house (not counting Lucy,) is sometimes a challenge. I often feel that I’m the only one responsible for thinking ahead, thinking about someone besides myself, planning for anything, or making sure we have the simple comforts in life, such as food, laundry soap, and a supply of toilet paper for the bathrooms. Most of the time, I don’t mind being this person. It’s how I operate. But sometimes I think it would be nice if the other two could occasionally shed their caveman personas and pitch in.
I’m also highly aware that I’m the one most likely to have emotions. I have a lot of emotions, and from my point of view, most situations have many shades of gray.
I don’t want to say that Mark doesn’t have emotions, but I think his supply of them is much smaller and much more clearly defined than mine. And for him, situations are usually very black and white.
We’re not sure if Jake has emotions or opinions on situations. He spends a lot of time not being here and not spending time with us. Therefore, there is not a lot of conversation with him. Again, this is understandable to me. At this point in his life, I’d worry if here was overly willing to hang out with us old fogies. When he’s less than pleasant, I try to understand what’s behind his behavior. For example, there’s this thing Jake and I do every morning while getting ready for our workdays.
First, I should explain that Jake is not a morning person. Jake ranks somewhere in the 1,089th percentile of non-morning persons. He gets up sometime after I do and we go about our business. I might say good morning and he might grunt at me … if I’m lucky. And every morning as he walks out the door, I say, “Have a good day! Love you!”
And if I’m really lucky, Jake might say, “Yeah.” Otherwise, he probably grunts at me. He’s always much more pleasant in the evenings, but I can expect next to nothing from him in the mornings. Still, it bothers me that I wish him a good day, every day and he can barely acknowledge. I know it’s a bit much to expect him to tell me he loves me every day, but a polite reply would be nice. Recently, I decided that whether or not he ever responds courteously to me, I’m still going to wish him a good day and tell him I love him. I’m going to tell him this every day that I have the chance.
And then yesterday? I was crabby. I blamed this on Mark, but in hindsight, I’m willing to admit I was partly to blame. Our gray versus black/white differences on this day were the recipe for our discord. And the whole thing was one of those stupid things, fueled by fatigue and possibly some hormones on my part. Jake grunted at me when I said goodbye, and it just made me feel worse. I worked hard all day on things that drained me and when I came home, Mark was playing the crabby card. Inside my head, I said, “Oh, this is what we’re going to do? Fine then.” And I proceeded to discontinue speaking to Mark.
An hour or so later, Mark wanted to discuss the cloud hovering over us and work through it so that we could play nice again. Except the way he communicated that to me was to ask, “What is your problem?”
I opened my mouth to explain what I was feeling, but what I was feeling in light of his tone and choice of words – was defensive. Before I could begin, I stopped and said instead, “You know what? When you open the conversation with those words, I don’t want to talk to you.” And so I walked away and we proceeded to continue not talking.
In the midst of this, Jake came down the hallway from his bedroom and went down the steps to our entryway, probably oblivious to the tension in the house. He slipped on his boots and called upstairs to anyone listening, “I’m going to Bobby’s.”
Mark didn’t respond, because that’s just Mark sometimes. And since I was crabby, I didn’t respond either. That is just not usually me, but I was at the end of my rope and fed up with everyone and everything.
Poor Jake was confused, so he stood with his hand on the door and said, “Mom? I’m going to Bobby’s?”
“K,” I grunted. And then added under my breath, “I guess I’m expected to respond when you talk to me.”
“What?” Jake asked.
I was already ashamed of my behavior and said, “Nothing.” I’m sure he caught on to the fact that Mom was in a mood and couldn’t make tracks soon enough. Off he went, not to return until long after I was asleep.
This morning I felt like a turd. I was swimming in guilt over my childish behavior. Mark and I had both cooled down and he left for work with a silent hug between us. But as I continued getting ready for work, I kept thinking I needed to apologize to Jake. You’d have to really know Jake to believe this, but the reality is, he probably thought way less of the whole thing than I did. And even though he usually just seems to take me for granted, and I go along with it, I had just the slightest inkling last night that he knew exactly how he and I usually worked, but that I had messed with the system and thrown him off. I couldn’t let him out the door today without setting things right again. I was on alert so I’d be sure to hear Jake when put his boots on in the entryway. Soon enough I heard him trudging down the steps with his usual air of morning drudgery.
I was in the lower level and so I moved to the stairway as he was bending over, slipping on his work boots.
“Hey,” I called up.
His eyes met mine, with no expectation in them and I said, “I’m sorry for being crabby and rude to you last night.”
“Huh?” he asked. (See? Told ya.)
“When you told me you were going to Bobby’s and I didn’t answer you,” I reminded him. “That was rude of me and it had nothing to do with you. I’m sorry.”
“S’Okay,” he mumbled.
“Okay,” I said. “Have a good day. I love you.”
I didn’t wait for the non-response, but just turned and began walking the few steps back to my bathroom. And that’s when I heard him reply, “Love you too.”
Made. My. Day.