Ahhhh... The sweet sense of bliss, responding to a situation that would - just the shortest of whiles ago - driven me dotty
Rennie was nipping me. He does that when he's hungry. The clock said a ridiculously early hour. I tried to make the best of it. He'd occasionally stretch his back against mine - often a sign he's going to lapse into a nice long snooze - but then he'd be prowling again (and nipping again).
When he persisted, I took my chance & made to lay hold on him. Rennie leapt down to the floor, but I managed to get a grip on lovely medium long red hair. Not a firm hold, but at least a grip. And asked John, with a sense of urgency in my voice & words, to please haul the lad outside the bedroom.
John heaved himself out of bed, paused a few moments, then came around the bed & scooped up the erring kitty.
Curious, I hitched myself up on my right elbow to get a better view of him marching Rennie to the door. My suspicions were confirmed.
While I was doing my best to hold onto a squirming cat who nips me - often hard - but never John, my husband had taken the time to first put on his slippers. As he explained, he'd stop by the bathroom after showing Rennie the door.
So much for my conveying a sense of urgency.
It was an action that would, perhaps as recently as a week ago, have pushed me into hurt abandonment heartbreak, hitting a slew of ancient hot buttons. But this time, instead of feeling ripped up inside (way out of proportion to the situation), I responded with... a rather sweet sense of humor, an unexpected experience of the absurd.
John, it seems, will always pause to first pay attention to whatever is on his mind rather than in my voice.
And I - wonder of wonders - had responded with an equanimity that saw the joke of the moment rather then dredging up horrors from a far distant past. In other words, I gave the situation the response it deserved. Praise be & hallelujah!
Yes, I did get up. Going back to sleep - well, it wasn't going to happen. And that was okay.
What was John's response when he heard me tut tut him over his priorities, when I told him, "That tears it for sleep for me"??
All he said, from the bathroom, was simply, "I'm sorry." Just two words.
Ah - but the right two words. Two words that made me smile & appreciate the fact that he REMEMBERED they're the only words he has to say in such a situation. Not any explanation of WHY he took the time to put on his slippers before showing Rennie the door, just that he was sorry for the pause.
Mega steps forward for both of us. I do so love perspective gained from years of responding in an unproductive way that lead only to churned up emotions. And, something I didn't expect when I walked downstairs, wide awake - my husband apparently has the same fresh learned perspective. But I am wide awake no longer - back to bed to snug up to my Keet & reinforce that we both hit the right response on the head.
Maturity - hard won at any age - is bliss.
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