A fresh perspective…
Tobi Layton, married 4 years
I believe Annie Oakley said it best in the musical, Annie, Get Your Guns. In a spirited argument with her beau, she sang at the top of her lungs, "Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you." I must admit, though I haven’t belted out these words to my husband, I have sent him that message loud and clear.
Maybe it’s my competitive spirit. I still gloat about schooling Ryan in the egg hunt competition our first Easter at his parents’ house. OK, so maybe it wasn’t a competition, but I won. By four eggs. On his turf!
Or maybe it’s my perfectionism. For some reason I can’t help but think about–okay comment on–Ryan’s sub par efforts around our house. I think I’m doing him a service by instructing him in the art of proper dish rinsing, laundry skills, and vacuum routes. It didn’t bother him all that much until recently, because, quite frankly, he didn’t rinse dishes, do laundry, or vacuum all that often. (Come to think of it, maybe there’s a connection…)
After the birth of our son, Reed, Ryan called me on my critical attitude. I assumed that since I was home all day on maternity leave with Reed, I was the resident parenting expert. So, when Ryan tried to console Reed by holding him tight to his chest, I felt it my duty to inform him that his method was restricting, Reed didn’t like it, and he should do it my way.
Ryan did not appreciate my helpful advice. In fact, I think it hurt his feelings. And I now realize it should have. In the few short weeks of our son’s life, I have learned that, while Ryan doesn’t do everything exactly like me, he is a wonderful father. To criticize his interactions with his son is insulting. In fact, it is our unique parenting styles that will make us, I hope, a great team.
As for the chores, I’m learning to bite my tongue, and hoping that my silence may buy me a few more loads of laundry done.
A seasoned perspective…
Deborah Raney, married 31 years
During my childhood and teen years, I never cared if I won the Monopoly or Old Maid games my siblings and I played. I was never involved in sports, with its goals of making the most points, breaking the record, winning the game. I rarely worried about whether I got better grades than my friends, or whether I was thinner or prettier or had a cuter wardrobe. I just never felt the need to be best, most, greatest, smartest or any other superlative. I was simply content with whatever happened to come my way.
My husband, on the other hand, has been an athlete his entire life, and his motto in sports and in life is "play to win." There’s nothing more frustrating to a competitive person than one who doesn’t give a hoot. Ken would say, "Why even bother playing a game if you don’t care about the outcome?"
