I am a self-professed tough and independent kind of girl. But Matt, being a natural antagonist, occasionally likes to argue this point. To demonstrate his opposing opinion of my toughness he’ll throw a punch into my arm that makes me wince in pain. “All bark no bite” he says while rubbing out the dead arm he just delivered to my now burning deltoid. Ahh, but since I’m playing the tough girl card I don’t take a hit lying down. Once the throbbing in my arm ceases I throw my best in his direction but my punch gets little more than “is that all you got?” Insulting isn’t it? I am strong and capable. My punches might need more muscle behind them but I am quite capable of stepping up to the plate when I need to. Any girl who’s been through medical school and residency with her husband and decides to have a handful of kids along the way learns to step up when needed. It’s fair to say that some skills are developed out of necessity and not just because one had a little free time on her hands while her husband was studying, and rounding, and studying and sleeping at the hospital.
On to my story: He left on Friday. Saturday there were a lot of tears. Sunday there were more tears mixed with some yelling from a frustrated mama as well. Yes, sometimes my patience fails and my emotions get the better of me. When he called the tears only escalated and talking to Dad turned more into a chance to tattle on mom for every mean and bad thing I had done since he left. Really, it’s no wonder he’s not much of a phone talker. Calling only means he gets on earful and a play by play that he wold be happy to do without. Monday I pulled my bootstraps up, had a family “Team Dahl” meeting with the above mentioned criers (which was all of them) and after apologizing, I reminded myself that I am quite capable of managing mine on my own. For one split second I was glad he was gone. I needed to remember what I can do and what he has helped me become. He isn’t the only one who has had 9 years of training in his chosen profession. Although grateful for that split second, once it had passed I wished more than ever that he were home. Because yes, I can do it alone-I just so happen do everything better when he is with me. A lot better.
Moral of my story: So maybe I’m not as tough as the girl I like to claim I am, but I’ll take credit for being smart enough to know I’ve got a good thing. Him. He makes me better. He makes everything better.
We miss you!
Hurry home. These four are eagerly awaiting the return of their “better mom” and their usual awesome Dad.
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