Dear husband, I’m sorry I blew up at you

I don’t want to take my frustrations out on you.

Dear husband, I’m sorry I blew up at you

Dear husband,

We’re not perfect, are we? And our marriage isn’t perfect, either.


But why would it be? We’re only human, after all. Arguments and heated discussions are to be expected when we’re dealing with the stress and responsibility of adulting and parenting three small children. Lack of date nights are to be expected when dealing with sick kiddos and unavailable babysitters and exhaustion.

And unfortunately, it seems that letting my frustrations build up and then come out in one big, ugly, volcanic blow up have come to be expected.

It seems we can talk about the importance of communication ‘til the cows come home, but sometimes—we’re going to lose it anyway.

It seems we can try not to project our frustrations and stress on one another, but sometimes—we’re going to take it out on each other.

It seems we can understand the importance of constructive disagreements and “fighting fair,” but sometimes—we’re going to hurt each other’s feelings.

It seems we can love each other beyond belief, but sometimes—we’re going to get annoyed with one another.

It seems we can attempt to make date night a priority in our budget saying things like, “We need to go out by ourselves at least once a month. That’s money well spent.” But sometimes—money seems too tight, and we let it slide.

It seems we can want to have all the sex in the world, but sometimes—we’re exhausted and we have to get up early and there’s a toddler in our bed anyway, so we skip it.

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It seems that I can try to be patient and appreciative for all you do for us, but sometimes—I’m going to focus on tripping over your shoes that were in the wrong place versus the five loads of laundry you just tackled.

It seems that I can make to-do lists and prioritize and delegate and ask for your help, but sometimes—I’m going to be resentful for all the day-to-day tasks I need to complete that aren’t on your radar.

But, I have a confession to make. I don’t want to be the wife that blows up at her husband.

I don’t want to take my frustrations out on you.

I don’t want to hurt your feelings.

I don’t want to focus on the “wrong way” to do things.

I don’t want to be resentful.

I don’t want to make you feel undervalued or unappreciated.

I don’t want to make you feel less than or unimportant.

I don’t want to make you feel like I’m the boss and I’m ordering you around.

I don’t ever want to make you feel anything less than equal and supported in this parenting partnership and so extremely loved and admired in this marriage.

I will fall, because I am not perfect. But when I do, I want you to know a few things.

I do not mean to blow up at you.

I am not proud of taking out my frustrations on you.

I will have grace with you when you fall. And I ask you to have grace with me, too.

I want to work through any issues or conflicts in a calm, peaceful way.

I want to be romantic and date you and love on you.

I am always striving to be better. A better human, wife and mother. For you, for our kids and for myself. Just as it’s not good for us or our kids for me to blow up and lose my patience and let my frustrations and anger get the best of me—it’s not good for me (or my blood pressure), either. So I’m working on it—every single day—because you and our beautiful children are more than worth it.

Before them, it was us. Me and you, taking on the world.

And now it’s us—still taking on the world, but with more tantrums and diaper blowouts and preschool tuition instead of finding the right career path and choosing where to settle down or what vacation we’d like to take next.

I think what I want you to know most of all is that I will always be by your side—with all my love, loyalty, support and strength—for all the days of my life.

The mix of parenting three children four and under and tending to our five-year-old marriage is hard work. Plain and simple.

But hard doesn’t mean it’s not worth the effort. And hard doesn’t mean adult-sized volcanic tantrums.

So thank you for loving me at my best, and my worst. There’s no one else who could love me like you do.

Love,

Your wife

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