Mind Reading - or Lack Thereof
Throughout our relationship, I have always – for a reason I’m not quite yet sure of – worn a sort of invisible badge of pride for every remark made about how I’m not the ‘stereotypical’ wife. Now, I don’t think any woman out there is the stereotypical wife. They are either much nicer or much worse, in my experience. Even so, I was always proud to be on the side of ‘nicer’.
One of the stereotypical wife’s faults is expecting her husband to know what she’s thinking without her telling him. Granted, there should be some things a man can just guess after a given amount of time, but mind reading all the time is too much to ask.
I was always proud that I didn’t expect Mr. JM to read my mind. We talked about things – really talked – and worked them out. I always caught myself when I started getting upset with him for something we hadn’t actually talked about.
Of course, recently life decided to remind me that I’m not the super-wife of pure awesomeness that I thought I was.
Like many things, mind-reading can come in different shapes and forms. This past week, I am terrible when it comes to expecting Mr. JM to do mind-reading of a different sort: reading my moods.
Poor Mr. JM has been batted around like a tennis ball for about a week now as I have been getting increasingly cranky and tired with the pressure of everything I have been trying to get done for work. Admittedly, I have been going over the top and letting every little stress get to me.
And I’ve just been expecting Mr. JM to know.
Ugh. Minus one from my awesome wife points.
Now that I’ve noticed the behavior, I’m trying to fix it. But I hate it when the world knocks me on my behind just when I get to feeling pretty awesome about myself.
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