Yesterday I wrote about our first night with the Ingalls family.
About how I had, for my kids’ sake, decided to take a break from the Disney Channel and start watching Little House on the Prairie…
My husband and I are going through a very difficult time right now.
An extremely challenging phase.
It is something I will write about at some point.
But now is not the right time.
No, nobody cheated.
It’s nothing like that.
But it’s a big test.
So tension is pretty much at an all-time high.
And we have been arguing.
Sometimes in front of the kids.
I know that’s bad.
Now I am not standing in the middle of my room fighting with myself.
It takes two to tango.
But I’m contributing, for sure.
And while I am angry, I am also really tired.
Being angry is exhausting.
Blame, and holding on to “being right” is also tiring.
And it’s not solving any problems.
Last night, I watched the second episode of Little House on the Prairie with Number 3, 4, and 5.
I don’t know if you watch Watch What Happens Live on Bravo, but if you do, you know that Andy Cohen plays a drinking game on there each night as part of the show.
There is a word of the night, and every time someone says that word, you are supposed to drink.
The show is on at 11:00 p.m. on weeknights. I never play along.
I don’t know if anyone actually does; it’s all in good fun.
If you were to play that game while watching Little House on the Prairie,
and if you were to drink every time Charles and Caroline kissed each other,
you would be catching a buzz by the first commercial.
And you’d be totally shitfaced by the end of the show.
I noticed the affection Charles and Caroline showed for each other in the first few minutes of that first episode.
So did the kids.
It wasn’t limited to the first episode.
I had forgotten about this part of Little House on the Prairie.
The love story part.
Or maybe since I had watched it as a kid, I had never noticed it so much.
It’s a little different watching it as a mother and wife.
So last night, as I sat on the couch with Numbers 3, 4, and 5,
and Charles and Caroline looked at each other with smiles in their eyes,
and kissed for the 47th time in ten minutes,
Number 4 looked over at me and said,
“I wish you and Daddy got along like that.”
Insert knife and twist.
I wanted to die.
I felt terrible.
Like really, really awful.
I haven’t been able to get her voice, and her face, out of my head since she said it.
it’s time to raise the white flag.
To my husband, I’m ready to acknowledge and change my part in this.
When you came to give me a hug in the kitchen this morning and I stood there,
stiff as a board,
and with my arms at my sides,
well, for that I am really sorry.
We are up against enough right now.
We don’t need to add each other to our list of adversaries.
To Number 4, I am so, so sorry.
You know, I want the same thing as you.
I want to get along with Daddy just like Charles and Caroline.
You deserve to have a mom who sets that example for you.
I guess sometimes I forget that.
Thank you for reminding me.
And to Charles and Caroline, thank you.
I introduced you to my family because I thought my kids were veering off course.
I was wrong.
Sure, the kids could learn a thing or two from you.
But now it’s become pretty clear that the person in need of some guidance really might have been me.