Marriage Moats-Defensive

Published: Tue, 05/29/12

Marriage Moats

Caring for Marriage

(If you want to hear Lori read the story click)here

As I have mentioned before Benjamin is learning to wash his own hair. This morning his teacher called mid day. I always bristle when her name comes up on caller ID. My mind raced to both fictional and non fictional scenarios.

"He threw up. Come get him ASAP."

"He forgot his back pack again."

"Why didn't you send in money for the field trip?"

My imagination usually spices up the words exchanged with a few recriminations lurking between the marginally polite ones.

"You are a sorry excuse for a mother. Why did you send him in sick? What do you think we are, an infirmary?"

"It does not take a rocket scientist to remember a back pack. Focus, woman."

"I already know that you are forgetful and cheap, but get a grip lady. Fork over the twenty bucks."

Today she said that they had noticed small white specks in his hair. They wondered if it was lice.

My memory rocketed back to torturous, month long ordeals involving relentless combing, meticulous washing and nasty potions. I steeled myself for the verdict.

"But it wasn't. We realized it was clumps of shampoo. Clearly he is struggling with rinsing well. We wondered if we could take him to the hair cutters and get him a buzz."

A flood of feelings flashed through my body, involving shame, defensiveness and protectiveness for his mop of sandy hair.

I could practically hear the teachers snickering about my inept parenting, probably using my photo as a dart board.

"Could John and I talk about it? We will help him get his hair clean tonight."

Defensiveness makes sense if you are a baby gosling in a lion preserve. But it can get in the way of an otherwise functional relationship. The teachers at Ben's school want to help him succeed, and that can involve pointing things out that I don't want to hear.

The other day I felt a need to say something to John that I could predict he did not want to hear. Boiled down to five words, I thought I could ease it into the conversation without sinking his self esteem ship. But he went down like the Titanic. The rest of the day was awkward. He stayed up late on the computer, a symptom of feeling wounded.

I felt annoyed at how difficult it was to give him simple information. Then I remembered the residual shampoo. All his teacher was doing was giving me information, so I could help Benjamin succeed in the future.

I would think harder about this but Benjamin is late to school and if I don't find his back pack I will be in the doghouse again.

Photo by Joy Feerrar

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