Love and Basketball

Tuesday night, this happened. I know that this is a "rebuilding" year, I know that we lost everybody, including 95% of our scorers, that I should be grateful we are NATIONAL CHAMPIONS, that I should feel lucky that we only got edged out by Illinois, rather than being swept off the court--but I don't. I feel depressed, and it doesn't help at all that these assholes won last night, after almost blowing it to a team I've come to appreciate ever since Bobby Knight left the building.

So I'm depressed because of that, and because I'm not pregnant*, and because Lance and I are in the midst of a lull, or a rut, or a something, and it's not a pleasant place to be. We can't seem to communicate without snapping at each other, without getting defensive or losing our sense of humor. So we don't communicate at all. We feed and bathe the kids, we eat our dinner in silence, we retire to our respective televisions, we go to bed.

But now I'm making it sound worse than it is, because we are not angry with each other, not all the time. We're just not connecting, on any level (if you know what I mean). In the midst everything, we still laugh at the funny things Isaac says, smile when Vivian learns a new word, roll our eyes at the latest infraction from Thing One. We still say I love you and kiss each other before bed, before leaving for the day.

Then Lance makes a comment that I take personally, and I react defensively, and he gets frustrated, and I get mad. We haven't been able to enjoy each other in I don't remember how long. Yes, we enjoy the kids together. Yes, I still look across the room at him and feel blessed and lucky to have him in my life. Yes, I know that I love him, and I know that he loves me. We just feel oceans away from each other, and attempts to bridge the gap end in a fight.

Why? Has it become a habit for me, to be annoyed with him? Am I so tired of being a giver all day long with Isaac and Vivian that I have nothing left when he comes home from work? There is a part of me that feels a slight, but constant, resentment of him. I'm sure this stems from my own insecurity about being a stay-at-home-mom. The minute I feel un-appreciated, or taken for granted, my armor goes up, and the claws come out. Then, when he is not around, I remember all the reasons I love him, I realize how fortunate I am to be able to stay at home, I recognize that I should appreciate him more. But when he comes home, the resentment just pops up again. Why do I insist on holding onto this anger?

We are working on this, but it's difficult, slow going. We have designated Wednesday nights as "date night". Not that we go out, but that we make an effort to turn off the television and talk about things that are bothering us. We made a rule that we would consummate the conversation, so to speak, every Wednesday, no matter what, in an effort to feel more connected. Last night, the conversation quickly turned to argument, and no consummation occurred. (Is this wrong? To divulge such personal information on the inter-webs, for all the world to see and judge? Shouldn't I feel more obliged to keep this to myself?) We didn't go to bed angry, but we didn't resolve anything either.

Tonight we are going, as a family, to pick out the Christmas tree. This is a chore that usually brings me much joy, and I'm hoping it does the trick tonight. Family times are still fun times, and maybe the good cheer will last once we get the tree inside.

But Lance's team sucks this year, too--so it's not just me.

*I should note here that if I was pregnant, that would also be cause for depression. No, I have yet to get my period, but I did get a negative pregnancy test. And Lance's joke about me possibly "drying up"? Not helpful.