Can you get me...

My husband hears me ask this question frequently, and while I like to mix up the language, it's generally a request to BRING ME SOMETHING.

Can you get me a drink? Can you bring me a diaper? Can you fix me a snack? 

There are times when I ask for something and I wanted it YESTERDAY and can't figure out why it's taking my husband SO FUCKING LONG to answer my request. For example, I asked my husband to fetch me the Nose Frida (a fabulous alternative to the shitty, ineffective bulb syringe that is literally given away with every newborn) this morning. I was laying with the baby (laying, lying?) on our bed, nursing my little snorty babe and I wanted to suction his nose. Instead of getting up to fetch the Nose Frida, I asked my dear husband to bring it to me. Get up while settled comfortably next to my nursing babe? I asked, he said "yes" and then....nothing. I listened to him walking around in the other room, all the while my baby is snorting his way through a feeding, getting sleepier and sleepier. I want to suction him before he falls asleep and where the fuck is my Nose Frida because our son is falling asleep and didn't you hear me ask for the stupid snot sucker-upper? I'm lying in bed (again, laying or lying? Why didn't I learn this?!) fuming and it feels like there is smoke billowing out of my ears.

I was feeling so angry. At that moment, I was so angry and pissed and suddenly all the things that have frustrated me in the past are zooming into my brain. Seriously, where is he? If I raise my voice to get his attention, I will bother this sweet child of mine. And if I get up, I'm going to disturb my son and he'll wake and cry. ALL I WANT TO DO IS GET HIS NOSE CLEARED AND LET THE KID FALL ASLEEP PEACEFULLY! 

In literally the two minutes it has been since I made the request, I'm pissed about baseboards that need to be repainted, our sidewalk that needs to be shoveled, and I'm wondering why I always have to be the one to clean out the motherfucking filter in our dishwasher. My blood pressure is rising and my once content mood has turned pretty sour all because my husband has forgotten to fulfill my one request. It'd be my luck he decided he was done with the busy-ness of our house and ran away from home.

And I have to tell you, just as quickly as my judgmental ways have overpowered my moment with my son, something comes over me and settles me. Thankful for having pressed pause on my escalating temper, I close my eyes. It has been a couple minutes and my son's eyes have closed. He finished nursing without the world collapsing. Yes, he's congested, but IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD. Why do I have to act like everything is such a big deal? Why do I let my temper get the best of me? Why can't I just cool the fuck down and react in such a way that doesn't make me feel shitty? 

My husband walked in and I quietly asked him, "you bringing in the Nose Frida?" to which he replied, "oh, I'm sorry. I forgot." He turned around and returned with the fabulous contraption ten seconds later.

And that was that.

I have to stop myself from getting so angry, so quickly! And it's hard. It's really hard. It's worse when I'm tired. But that's no excuse. And so I'm working on reigning in my temper and using better coping techniques when I'm frustrated.

I'll let you know how it works.