Suitcase Fight

I'm not sure why I started the fight. I was looking forward to a whole weekend of Yoga, one of those workshops that Yoga nerds like me crave. But I had to start a fight, maybe because I felt just a tiny bit guilty for leaving A. with the kids while I went to stretch and breathe and think about myself for hours on end. Or maybe it was hormones. Seriously.

I packed the suitcase, taking all of my favorite outfits. I'm not sure what kind of fabulous social events I was planning. Do women who leave their families behind immediately start partying* like rock stars? I live in a small town. Where was I planning on doing all of this rocking out? I took a bathing suit, too, because I knew I wasn't leaving for good and I thought I might as well find a hotel with a nice indoor pool. Even in all my righteous anger, I was thinking about inviting my girlfriends and having a little ladies' night around the pool at some hotel. Fun!

The thing is, my engagement ring and my watch are the only two really nice pieces of jewelry I have. And they were both gifts from my husband. He gave me the watch for our tenth anniversary after I insisted suggested, perhaps not so gently, that after three children and ten years, a nice watch might make a nice gift. Anyhow, they kind of pull my outfits together and it would be tacky to wear them if I abandoned my family, n'est-ce pas?

Also, I couldn't think of a nice hotel in town with an indoor pool. The only one I know is the Marriott and their pool is so un-fabulous. There is absolutely no way I could entertain there. I need a pool like this one, at the Westin in Charlotte, but that's too far for my friends to drive, unless they wanted to abandon their families, too. And that would take way too much advance planning.

The Suitcase Fight is spur of the moment, which is what makes it so exciting. And far less likely to result in an actual separation. When you have three children, you can't just walk away. The only time you should really leave a marriage with little to no advance planning is if your spouse is dangerous. And if your spouse is dangerous, you really should take the children, and they will totally cramp your style.

I put my suitcase in the car** and drove away from the curb. And I drove a little bit more. And I went to breakfast, a block from our house. And I pondered how I was going to kill the time until the Yoga workshop started. I wondered if the Yoga people would be able to sense my dark and stormy aura. Much like the criminal who thinks he can beat the lie detector, I thought it might be fun to pick a really annoying Yoga person and ask them what my aura looked like and try really hard to think really good thoughts so I could fool them.

My breakfast was terrible and I started to worry about what I would eat, living in a hotel. I would really miss my kitchen because, as my children like to say, I am "the best cooker ever." Speaking of the children, mine are really cute and it wouldn't be so nice to leave them with a nincompoop like my husband. And, if I did, he might realize how easy I have it and the slacker lifestyle I've worked so hard to create would end. I decided that, rather than abandoning my family and staying in a less than perfect hotel, I would call our acupuncturist first thing Monday morning and get him to give me some acupuncture and happy Chinese herbs.

So I called A. and told him I was coming home, after Yoga of course. I had some time in between the morning and afternoon sessions, so I went home and unpacked my suitcase then. Lucky for me, no one was there so it wasn't embarrassing. I also felt like brushing my teeth, because I had eaten lunch. I think it's against Yoga rules to practice with bad breath.

By the way, what set me off was the scary condition of the boys' bedroom. No matter how often I help them de-clutter, the stuff comes back. And I got mad at A. for not caring as much as I do about the clutter. The problem has been solved, though. We promised the boys lava lamps***, as soon as they finish weeding through and organizing their stuff. They're working hard and really looking forward to the stylish lava lamps. Just tonight, the X-Man told me,

"I just know we're getting those lava lamps, because we're almost done cleaning up and re-cluttering!"

"Don't you mean de-cluttering?"

"Yeah! Whatever!"

Sigh.

Namasté, y'all!

* I can't help it. I have to say that, as a rule, I hate using nouns as verbs, but I made an exception in this case, as "party like a rock star" is a well known phrase. Bless me, for I have sinned, in using bad grammar and in torturing my husband.

** Actually, I put it in A's car, because my car had Baby J's car seat in it and I was being far too dramatic to take the time to transfer the seat. A. should have known I wasn't leaving for good, because he knows how much I love my car.

*** Which we already have, thanks to our friend Bob, who in an effort to de-clutter his own home, gave them to us for his birthday. Thank you, Bob! It takes a village, yo!