Cari-bein'

anger management

We went to the beach this morning so H. could get his first taste of snorkeling before they hit the golf course for an afternoon round. While boyfriend and H. were busy snorkeling, I volunteered to go to the snack bar to order our breakfasts. I ordered three BLT's, but forgot to tell the snack bar to hold the mayo on H.'s. It looked like they had several tickets up, so I went back to our spot and got back into the water. I was peacefully floating on my back when it dawned on me I'd forgotten the "hold the mayo" part. I ran back to the snack bar, but the order was already up. It took me two trips to transport our breakfast back to a picnic table--one trip with the food, one with the drinks. I had to wade into the water to get the boyfriend's attention (since they were snorkeling) to let him know the food was ready. I told him I was going back for the drinks, but I'd forgotten to have them hold the mayo, so to tell H. to scrape it off.

When I returned, H. was already picking apart his BLT. We got settled at the picnic table and H. continued picking little bits and pieces out of his sandwich--barely nibbling on a tomato slice here, a tip of bacon there. I could feel myself getting pissed. He wasn't pitching a fit about the mayo, but he clearly had no intention of eating anything that looked like it had even touched a dab of mayo. And I'm talking a dab. I didn't know who I was angrier at: H. for being such a finicky eater (he's always been finicky), boyfriend for allowing him to throw away a perfectly good sandwich or me for momentarily forgetting that H. never eats mayo. But my anger only increased when it occurred to me that if the boyfriend or I had refused a BLT for a tiny smidgen of mayo when either of us was 13...well, we'd have been sitting at that picnic table a long time, until that damn sandwich was gone. I'm sure both sets of parents would have said the same thing: "I paid good money for that sandwich and you're gonna eat it." Don't you just hate it when you turn into your parents?! :)

And I sympathize with the mayo thing. When I was a kid, I wouldn't eat anything with mayo unless it was the thinnest, transparent layer of it...and that's exactly what was on H.'s BLT. It was barely there; it could have easily been removed with a knife or napkin. I wanted boyfriend to tell him to just wipe it off and eat it. He didn't do that, which made me even angrier, of course--even though I understood in the moment why he didn't.

I grew silent in my anger. Boyfriend began asking H. what he likes for breakfast these days. We finished our meal (such as it was). They retired to their chairs and I slipped into the water without a word to either of them. I figured the best course of action at that point was to just swim until the anger dissipated...and I did. I swam facing northward, toward the mouth of the bay. There's a small island just beyond the mouth and I looked at that view...the horizon of turquoise water, the peninsulas bordering the bay on either side, the island just beyond, the blue sky and glorious puffy clouds...and I started telling myself, "Just let it go...just let it go..." Because I knew it wasn't about mayo on a BLT. It's just that there's so much catching up to do...and so much time has passed that we can never get back. How could I have forgotten that H. doesn't like mayo (even though I've remembered many of his other food preferences)? I used to know that.

And the fact that H. didn't complain about the mayo almost made it worse; it made me even angrier. At one point, one of his napkins blew off the table. When he didn't make a lightning-fast move to pick it up, I leaned over to grab it and snapped, "We don't litter." As I was saying it, I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was simultaneously reaching for it from his side of the table. I could only imagine that he was thinking, "All I asked her was to hold the mayo and now she's really mad at me."

By now I'm sure you ready to scream at me, "You are the epitome of a wicked stepmother!" But I'm not, truly. If you asked H., he'd tell you that I've almost never gotten mad at him about anything...EVER. That's why this was such a bizarre moment for me...and I'm sure for him, too.

Eventually H. came back into the water with his snorkel gear. He kept swimming closer to me...and I kept swimming away. God, what a shit I can be! But in my head, I was pleading, "Come on, kiddo, just give me a couple of minutes to myself and then I can be the fun Marilyn you love to hang out with." And after a couple of minutes, I swam nearer to him and commented on some fish--to let him know it was all okay between us. Then I walked out of the water to where the boyfriend was sitting in his sand chair reading the paper. I squatted down and gave him a look and a kiss. There was no need to discuss it. It was moment...and it passed.

I decided to take a walk down the beach. I asked H. if he wanted to come. He said he'd like to snorkel alongside me. At first I agreed, but he was easily distracted. So I kind of laughed and said I was going to go for my walk and leave him to his snorkeling. When I reached the end of the beach and turned around, I was stunned to see a pretty heavy shower passing over the middle of the beach (where boyfriend and H. were). I hadn't even noticed it rolling in. I got fairly drenched walking back as the shower made its way through the bay. It seemed such a perfect metaphor for that flash of anger--a dark cloud that passed through, just briefly. The rain felt delicious and I felt washed anew.

When I reached our chairs, I waded back into the water and joined my guys. I swam near them as they snorkeled and felt like grabbing them in a group hug, but feared I'd start crying and then they'd wonder, "What's wrong with her?" Ha! So instead I let the bouyancy of the water rock me back to a safe emotional place.

I realized that my anger wasn't over some stupid BLT and a 13-year-old's refusal to eat it. It was about wanting to make things up to him...and in doing that, wanting everything to be 'perfect'...and being pissed at myself for even a tiny infraction...and then perversely taking that anger out on him.

I'm almost glad it happened, because now I can take a deep breath and realize that we can't make anything up to him...we can only move forward. And H., I promise never to swim away again.

posted by Marilyn @ 1:09 PM