Writer's Workshop " Hows motherhood changed me"

Every little girl dreams of growing up and being a mom, right? Well, not this little girl. I dreamed of growing up, living my life with the man of my dreams and being free. Free to do what I wanted to do. No diaper changes or carpools. No snotty noses or scraped knees. None of that. Don't get me wrong, I loved children. I was a preschool teacher for years. But being a mom, was just not my thing.

Then I got pregnant. I still didn't want to be a mom. I was terrified at giving up my freedom, my career. I didn't want to become my mom and loose my identity to the little baby inside of me. I didn't want to be just a mom.

When I became a mom for the first time, and then for a 2nd, 3rd and 4th time, I realized that being just a mom was so much more then just mom.

Since becoming a mom, I have learned that life is short and precious. I have learned to take one day at a time.

Where I once found happiness in the confines of the local mall or Target, I now find that same happiness in my children's eyes. Hearing about their day. Watching them sing and dance to the Wiggles. Hearing the baby laugh.

I am more kind. Growing up and even in my adult years before being a parent, I went through alot. Emotional and verbal abuse. Physical abuse. My heart had become hard and walls had been built that no one could break through.

Even after the birth of my first son, those walls were still there. At first I resented that innocent little baby for taking away my freedom. I felt like a prisoner.

Then I learned, motherhood wasn't a prision sentance. It was a blessing. I should be happy to have such wonderful children. These children complete my life. Material things no longer matter. I could be happy in a cardboard box as long as my children are with me.

Being a mom has opened many doors in my life that I thought were shut forever. I was able to rebuild relationships with my family. I learned to be strong. When I became a single mom with my oldest, I learned that I can handle a baby on my own and that as long as he had me and I had him, we would be ok.

My family has grown since the first time I discovered I was pregnant. I look back at how life was then versus now. Then I thought I had it all...but now I realize that I didn't have it all. Or even all together. I was stumbling around in the dark, grasping for a life perserver.

My kids, all four of them, were that perserver

Thanks Mama Kat for this weeks prompts

Writer's Workshop: So much more then just "Mom"

This week's prompts from Mama Kat were all centered around a "Mom" theme. I didn't have to think to hard about which prompt I would choose.

Growing up my mom was always just mom. To me and my child brain she was what a mom was supposed to be. Chauffer, cook, maid, replacer of broken barbie heads...mom

She was a stay at home mom for almost all of my childhood. She would walk with us to school and wait for us to come home. She would have after school snacks ready and listen to our school day stories.

My mom always had a smile on her face. Even as her marriage to my dad continued to deteriorate. She stressed the importance of being happy. The importance of making good choices. Being responsible.

Then it happened. One afternoon, my mom came into my room, tears filling her already red-eyes. "Your dad and I are divorcing. I am moving out" I was 14 or 15.

It was at that point that my mom, who for years was just a mom, started to take the shape of more then just mom. She started to take the shape of a person who, after years of her kids being her identity, was trying to find herself.

My mom and I remained close during that time. For the most part. I couldn't quiet reconcile her choice to leave her family in my mind. It just didn't make sense.

Then the unthinkable happened...I grew up.

Growing up is hard.

By the time I was 17 or 18, I realized that my mom was so much more then just a mom...she was this, this...I don't know she just was...

She was there for me as I struggled my way through an abusive relationship. She was there when I got pregnant. She was there when I found myself a single mom at 21 with no job, no money. She was there.

She was there when I would call her in tears, telling her I wanted to divorce Steve. She would listen to me. Remind me that I had kids, but then say Only you can decide what makes YOU happy

Many years ago, my mom had to make a choice. It wasn't about us kids at all. She always loved us. Unconditionally. It was a choice between a bad marriage or her sanity.

She made a hard choice.

My mom is still the first person I call with any news. The first person I call when I need advice. She is my best friend. My mom.

She is so much more then that though. She is an example. She is a teacher. She is strong and she is brave.

She had made me want to be the best mom I can be to my kids, She has made me realize that only I can change my situation.

Either do something about it or shut. up.

She never judged. Always supported.

No matter how bad I messed up (and there were some moments...)

I became a mom 7 years ago for the first time, 3 months ago for the fourth time...and it was really just recently that I realized that my mom was more then just Mom....

She was a person.

The one who got away: Writer's Workshop

It is said, that sometimes things must fall apart so that greater things can fall into place. 5 years ago, I didn't believe that there was anything all that great waiting for me.

After reuniting with my highschool sweetheart, we bought a house together and got engaged. I was 4 months into living in my brand new home and planning a wedding when he dropped the bomb...He wasn't ready to be with someone who had a kid. He wasn't ready for that responsibility.

So I left with my heart on the floor, son in my arms and headed home. Back home to my dad.

Sometimes things must fall apart....

Mike contacted me several times after I left. Once even writing an eight page letter, claiming he loved me and wanted to have a baby with me.

I think he was falling apart...

It took a long time for the tears to stop falling. For my heart to somewhat heal. I dated. But each with disasterous results. Mike was "the one who got away". I wondered if my heart would ever feel whole again.

Then I met who became "The One". It started out innocently enough. After a particularly devastating break up and my heart still hurting from loosing Mike, I wasn't ready to take down the walls just yet...if ever.

A month or so later, Steve and I lost touch. I chalked it up to fate. I just wasn't met to date anyone. Ever. Mike had moved on I heard. I was still stuck in those memories. Mirred in a love lost. A heart broken.

A few months later, my Yahoo Instant Messenger dinged...signaling a message. I was pleased to see it was Steve. We began talking more and more frequently. He made me laugh. I could slowly feel the walls that I had built so high with reinforced steel being chipped away. Mike was becoming a distant memory. My heart was healing.

It's been 4 years since my first date with Steve. 4 years since he pulled up to the resturant in his red Ford truck. 4 years since he first held my hand, first kissed me.

Today, I am thrilled that "the one who got away" got away. Had he not, I wouldn't have met Steve. My children wouldn't be here. I would still be unloved and unwanted or trapped in a bad relationship.

"The one who got away" taught me that I am stronger then any outside force. That wounds do heal. That even though

Things fall apart...

Greater things are almost always waiting in the wings.

Writer's Workshop hosted courtesy of MamaKat

Writer's Workshop: If You Give A Mom A Moment....

If You Give A Mom A Moment....

If you give a mom a moment, she will want a cup of coffee

She will then discover the contents of last weeks cup of coffee molding in the filter basket

This will lead to her disinfecting the entire kitchen

Then she will drop the coffee pot on the floor.

She will clean up the glass, while keeping the toddlers at bay,

While cleaning up the glass, she will decide to mop the floor

After mopping the floor, she will load 4 kids into the car, head to the local Wal-Mart to replace broken pot.

Only to discover she has to buy a whole new machine.

She will leave the store 2 hours and 200 dollars later.

Upon arriving home, she will unpack the coffee maker while feeding the kids gummi bears

She will put the last of her coffee grounds in the filter and turn the machine on...

Learning a few moments later you must FIRST put the pot on the maker.

She will mop up hot coffee, with tears in her eyes

If you give a mom a moment, she will want a cup of coffee...

Screw the coffee, gimme a beer!

writer's workshop hosted courtesy Mama Kat

Writer's Workshop: What Does Marriage Mean To You?

When I was growing up, I had this idea of how marriage would be. I mean don't we all. Especially little girls, we spend a huge percentage of our childhood days planning out how our wedding will be, rehearsing with Barbie And Ken (and the occasional cat and dog...not that I did that...I'm just sayin...)

Then we grow up. And hit that wall.

First, we have to find the man that we want to marry. That takes some a lifetime in and of itself.

I,myself, was engaged 3 times...once for real, meaning we actually set the date, I picked out my colors and all that jazz, only to have it implode on me. Once was just a silly highschool "we will be together forever" thing. I think that ended a few weeks after graduation. And once was a "I am going to make my ex-wife jealous" engagement. Can ya figure out how that one ended?

Then I met my now husband. We got married. And then I really learned what marriage means.

*It means forgetting the "never go to bed angry" rule. Some nights you have to go to bed angry so you can wake up and realize how stupid you were

*It means loving another when it seems impossible to continue to do.

*It means fighting for what you really want, and not walking away because it is easiest.

*It means letting go of how you think things should be and instead focus on how things are.

*It means working together towards a common goal.

*It means compromise

*It means never forgetting to say "I love you"

*It means that sometimes you have to admit that you are not always right (even though I am)

*It means sharing

*It means arguing like adults and not like children in the school yard.

*It means having someone to share your life with.

When I got married to my husband, I had this idea in my head of how I wanted my marriage to be. I thought that it would be all smiles and loving kisses. And it was...but not all the time.

We had to compromise,alot, on things in our lives.

As my husband and I went through our lives we lost alot: Our home, our car, our credit. I lost jobs. He lost time with his family as he struggled to keep us afloat.

But we also gained alot: Our 3 children, a new outloook on life, ourselves.

So ultimately Marriage redefines itself everyday. It is how we react to those redefinitions that help us learn what marriage means.

To me: My marriage means simply this: Love, Strength, Honor, Loyalty and Respect.

Writer's Workshop "Tell About a Time When You Were Wrongly Wronged..."

Well, I think I was wrongly wronged...does that count?

Ask anyone who knows me, I have a lead foot. Being taught to drive by a race car driver and then driving said race car, didn't lend itself to my "speed sensibility" and I have been known, just at time or two,to let the the needle on the speedometer creep past the designated speed.

Years back, I was driving on a back country road, heading back from seeing a guy that I was not supposed to be seeing, stereo cranked up, singing along at the top of my lungs, totally oblivious to anything going on around me...blissfully unaware that my speed was fast approaching the "illegal" limit.

I had the music up so loud and was so wrapped up singing whatever it was that I didn't notice the cop behind me at first. I honestly don't know how long he was behind me before I actually had that "oh crap" moment and pulled over. Because I wasn't wresteled to the ground by Mr. Officer (although he was hot so it would have been ok...maybe) I assume that he hadn't been following me that long.

I opened my door because my window didn't roll down. Did you know that the cops don't want you to open your door..."Ma'm...you need to remain in your vehicle" he shouted at me.

Then it happened, my mouth it started on it's own..."Who pissed in your cherrios this morning?" As soon as I uttered those words I knew I was getting a ticket...for what I didn't know just yet.

As he glared at me, he pulled out his little ticket book and asked me if I knew why he had pulled me over. "Nope, maybe you had nothing better to do, I mean it is the end of the month" Darn it, there went my mouth, again...I have seriously got to learn to control it better.

I could sense he was getting slightly irratated with me so I shut my mouth and waited for Mr. Officer to tell me what exactly I had done to have the pleasure of being pulled over by him.

"You were going 55 in a 35" he said a little sternly as he started to reach for my license and registration in my hand. I was speechless (for the first time like ever) I looked up, my car has 1/2 way past the speed limit sign designating this stretch of road a 55mph zone.

"Excuse me, can you even read?" I said, knowing full and well that I was setting myself up to get into more trouble then I was already in, but there was no way I was going 55 in a 35, especially if there was a sign right in front his eyes stating it was a 55mph hour zone.

He took a deep breath and began to explain to me how I was speeding up before the sign blah blah blah.

I was impatient, I was supposed to be home in 15 minutes and still had a 30 minute drive ahead of me. Being home on time was the only way my dad wouldn't figure out what I had been doing.

"Obviously you can't read and are just in a foul mood, so give me my ticket and we both can go our seperate ways.." Wrong answer, Melissa.

Mr. Officer decided that I was being beligerent and made me sit on the side of the road while he searched my car "For drugs or firearms". I almost had to laugh..firearms? I told him he wouldn't find any drugs or firearms in the car, but because it was so messy, I was sure there was a pocket of chinesse in there who hadn't heard that the war was over. I laughed...he didn't, apparently dealing with a mouthy 18 year old was last on his list of things to do that day.

After what seemed like forever, he wrote me my ticket for speeding, gave me a lecture about being more respectful to law enforcement. I told him this ticket was B.S and he snickered and said see ya in court.

I went to court, I didn't deserve that ticket, I was already in a 55mph zone when he pulled me over...I could win this. I walked smugly into the court room.

The judge called my name, I walked up next to Officer Friendly. I plead my case. He said his piece...

I got a fine AND court costs..

Seems he had been following me with his lights on...

For a mile.

Add to that my attitude and the judge decided to make "me an example for all the other mouthy teens in the room"

You try explaining a $75.00 ticket from a cop in a town you weren't supposed to be in to your dad...

I think I am still grounded.

thanks to Mama Kat for the inspiration!!!

Writer's Workshop: Who Is Your Crush?

I have a crush....Well my husband calls it an "obsession". I call it a minor infatuation.

See, it all started when all that hype about Twilight came about. I refused to watch the movie. I am soooo not one to give into media hype. Or so I thought. But everywhere I turned, there he was...Edward Cullen. His steel eyes gazing out from every poster,book and magazine cover. But still I held strong. I was NOT going to fall into the trap that so many others had. Edward Cullen had no power over me.

Then I started to crack. All of my friends were talking about the book. All the girls were drooling over Edward. Vampires were the new "in" thing...but I still held strong. Giving Edward the cold shoulder.

Then I broke. What's the harm? I asked myself...it's just a book. Surely one book does not have that much power over me....

I finished Twilight in 2 days, and the next book in a single sitting. I found myself wishing someone would talk to me like Edward talked to Bella. When I read and re-read the words he said to her, my heart skipped a beat.
I swore that I would not be one of "those Twilight" people...but truth is...Edward had me at hello.
And the sad truth is...I have a crush.
On a Vampire.
At least my husband is safe.....


Thanks to MamaKat for sponsoring the Writers Workshop

Writer's Workshop; If These Walls Could Talk...

If these walls could talk, they would speak not of countless hours spent vaccuming the floors. Not of the unsurmountable amount of laundry washed daily. Not of the dishes left in the sink.

If these walls could talk, they would not speak of countless arguments my husband and i had, only to make up hours later. Not of the times I yelled at the kids because I had had enough for the day. Not of tears cried in solitude of a mother who is stressed.

Instead these walls would speak of laughter. Of Sunday mornings spent lounging in bed watching cartoons. Of water fights with the hose. Of fresh baked (from scratch) chocolate chip cookies.

They would speak of family time spent 'round the dinner table. Talking about our days. Of trips to the park or the zoo. Of time spent building lego houses and cars. Of nights spent rocking the newest of the brood to sleep.

If these walls could talk , they would remember the good, forget the bad. Recall warm memories, cast away negative thoughts.

If these walls could talk, they would speak of love. life.laughter

They would speak of a happy home.

Thanks mamakat for this weeks prompts

Writer's Workshop: God Moment

Over the years, my faith has been tested. Well, more then tested. It's been twisted,torn and turned upside down. Up until recently I didn't know if there really was a God. I mean, I prayed, but only when things got bad and even then I wasn't really sure if God was listening.

Then I got pregnant with Noah. My baby. My 4th and final baby. I knew from the very begining that this pregnancy would be a difficult one. I had high blood pressure with my 3 previous pregnancies, 2 of my children were emergency c-sections.

As my pregnancy progressed, the complications that I had expected set in. Then things went from just kinda bad to to really bad.

Each week I had non-stress tests. Each week I had ultra-sounds. Each week I was told that I would be lucky to make it to 34 weeks.

At around 34 weeks I was admitted to the hospital. My blood pressure was through the roof, little Noah was not reactive during the tests. Of course, once I got to the hospital, he was more active. I breathed a sigh of relief. But then I got news that i wasn't expecting...

Noah had stopped growing. He was suffering from IUGR. I panicked. Noah couldn't be born now, he was too small. I was sent home that night on strict bed rest.

Again at 36 weeks, I found myself on another stay, this one overnight, at the hospital. My doctor called the night of my release and told me he preferred me to stay until 37 weeks. But would let me go home again on bed rest. Noah was going to be early.

At this point I realized that I needed God. There were complications with Noah that could have been devasting. I didn't know what was going to happen to me or my baby.

The following week, I recieved more bad news...I was developing Pre-ecclampsia. I was ordered to have a stress test that day. Noah wasn't moving. His heart rate was low.

Just 2 hours after that dreadful appointment, Noah was thrust into this world via emergency c-section. He weighed just 5pds 15 oz. He was 3 weeks early. Thankfully, no complications ensued and he is now at a healthy 7pds 13 oz 6 weeks later.

I realized that if Noah hadn't been delivered that day, he would not be here today. My pre-ecclapmsia wasn't as bad as I thought. The night before my hands had swollen up a little bit. If that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have called the doctor, who wouldnt have ordered the tests and Noah wouldnt be here right now...

God, even though through the years I doubted the exsistance of Him, watched over me and Noah that day. While in the OR I felt a calm that was absence during my other children's births. I had none of the other complications that plauged me after surgery in the past. I was able to enjoy my son within 30 minutes of leaving the OR.

That day was my God moment. The moment that I realized that even though life hadn't always been fair or "right", that there was a reason for the things that went on. I realized that God was there, watching out for me and my baby.

6 weeks later, my faith is a little stronger. I would love to say that I am a God-fearing christian, but that would be a lie. But I do believe that God is there now...

thanks to Mama Kat for this inspirational and thought provoking prompt this week

Irrational Fear or Not? Writers Workshop 8/6/09

Ok, so for as long as I can remember, I have been terrified to death of spiders. For some reason, they scare the living piss out of me, even little ones.

But, I love the movie Arachnaphobia, go figure. Anyways, so for years, this "irrational fear" of spiders has made me prime target for jokes and pranks. I am constantly made fun of. I admit, it is a stupid thing to be scared of, but come on..they are NASTY.

So the other day, I am going to go down stairs to check on the napping kiddos, when what am I greeted by..A SPIDER!! And not just your typical daddy long leg, no this sucker had a body the size of a quarter, legs that where just as long and was black and yellow.

I panic,of course, who is going to kill this thing. I look at the dog, who looks at me. "Surely you dont expect ME to kill it?" I ask the dog, as this nasty thing creeps along my wall. It makes its way to a pile of clothes and settles. "So now what?" I cant just leave it. So I do the next best thing...

I race to my hall closet and grab the bottle of woolite carpet cleaner. Yes carpet cleaner. I spray the damn thing and it hides in the clothes. Damnit. Then I start stomping on the clothes as if they were on fire. I hoping that is is dead. Then I realize if its not, then its still in the clothes and is free to roam about my house, so I do what any girl in this situation would do...I grab a pair of tongs and pick the clothes up (why are you laughing? I wasnt going to touch the clothes after that) and pile them into the laundry basket. Still no spider, so logical conclusion, it is still in the laundry basket. So now the laundry basket is sitting at the top of my stairs waiting to be taken down to wash....this will kill the spider sending him to spider heaven.

Except for this..WHO is going to wash those clothes?


Thanks to Mama Kat for the prompts

Writer's Workshop~A day in my life....~

Many thanks to Mama Kat for this weeks prompts


It's 3am, the baby is crying again, the dog is barking and my new neighboors are just getting home. I roll over, hoping that my husband is starting to stir, begging him silently to please get up with Noah. As he continues to sleep peacfully, I stomp out of the room, plotting his demise.

Is this my life? How did I get here? I wonder as I feed Noah, rock him back to sleep and settle back into bed.

My eyes drift close, I snuggle down into my soft pillow, "ahhh...sleep at..." The beeping of the alarm clock startles me...is it 530 already? It took me 2 hours to get Noah fed, changed and back to sleep. And now it is time for my blissfully unaware husband to go to work. He gets to escape from Romper Room for the day, and behave like an adult. He gets to have adult converstations, while I, no doubtly, will listen to my children recite Spongebob or TMNT word for word. He will get to enjoy a day of no diapers, while I, judging from the smell coming from the little person nearby, will again find myself up to my ears in dirty, stinky, diapers.

"bye, see you at lunch" he says as he walks out the door. I don't say anything. More then likely because I am again changing Noah or feeding him. After he leaves I turn on Good Morning America, and hope for a few moments peace....

The peace is shattered by the sound of WWIII coming from the floor below me. The boys are up. Judging from the shrieking, their sister is too. I hurry downstairs,because my daughter has a tendancy to strip naked if not attended to in a timely manner...

"Crap"..literally Crap. She removed her diaper and of course now there is poop everywhere, not the way I wanted to start my day and it is not even 730am.

My day continues on pretty much the same course. Nap time offers no reprieve from the demands of my employers. My oldest is telling me again, how unfair I am, and how he hates me. You know what, I really dont care. Life isnt fair I tell him as he stomps back down stairs.

About this time, my husband comes home for lunch and the demons that were my children somehow transform into respectable little people. Casting sly looks in my direction that seem to say "neener neener neener..." the baby, who was just crying loudly a moment ago, is now sitting contentedly in his chair. "Traitors"...I mutter.

Bedtime cannot come soon enough, and at 6pm I banish the 3 oldest to the nether regions of the house with strict orders to not come upstairs!

Ahh the baby is sleeping, time for me to shower...am I still in my Pj's? I dont even remember if I brushed my hair that morning.

I turn on the hot water, anticipating a nice hot relaxing shower....

"mom..."

My oldest needs a drink

"Mommy I yucky" my other son needs a diaper change

And not to be outdone my baby screams loudly from his chair

Time to eat.

As I sink wearily into bed and again glance at my husband sleeping peacfully, I pray that today was just an "off day" but know too well that I will have to do it all again tomorrow.

As the baby starts to stir, the dog starts to bark and the neighboors leave for the night...

I sigh.

Is this my life?

Yes it is....

and I wouldn't have it any other way

Weekly Writer's Workshop "Tomorrow I will do it differently, here's how..."

You can join in the fun as well. Thank you Mama's Losin' It

Tomorrow I will Do It Differently, Here's How:

I think that I have the best of intentions in life. I mean, I know what I need to do, I know what is expected of my in terms of my children, my husband and my household.

I laugh at household though. Because although I know what is expected of me, or what I expect of myself, I never, well hardly ever, follow thru.

It is not that I am lazy, because I am not. I think that I am just completely overwhelmed with the amount of things that need to be done and when they need to be done by. I say that "Today will be the day" and then before I know it half the day is gone and I have accomplished nadda.

That lack of accomplishment leads to me feeling like I am a failure. And that feeling of failure leads to me sinking into a depression. It is a vicious cycle. It is time to break that cycle.

So, Tomorrow I will Do It Differently and Here is How:

I will get up, get dressed (no wearing a ratty shirt and sweats) I will brush my hair, and put on some makeup. I will get dressed to my shoes.

I will make the bed so as not to tempt my lazy butt to crawl back in.

I will stop making excuses for things. I will just do.

I will remember that it did not get this way in one day nor will it get better in one day

I will celebrate my accomplishements, and forget my shortcomings

I will rid my house of the clutter because Clutter breeds Chaos

I will remember to do one thing just for me.

Tomorrow I will do it differently, because this way is no longer acceptable.

I want to be able to open my door at a moments notice and let someone in

I want to be able to relax at night and not look at the piles of clothing on the floor.

I want to be able to get a glass without having to dig to the bottom of a pile of dirty dishes.

Tomorrow I will do it differently!

Writer's Workshop: Do you want another baby?

Thanks to Mama's Loosin It for this weeks prompts

As I sit down to write this, I am currently 30 weeks pregnant with my fourth kid. My 3rd boy. I am also writing this in 5 second intervals as I jump up to go get one of the kids or stop an inevitable disaster.

Ok, anyways to answer the question...No. Well,not really. I currently have 3 kids...D is 6 (will be 7 in may) A is 2 (3 in July) and M is 1 (2 in August). My younger 2 are exactly 12 months and 2 weeks apart. I plead temporary insanity. M is my only girl. There is a huge part of me that wants to have a little sister for M. I always wanted a sister growing up...( i tried to return my brother, but my mom wouldn't go for it). But then again, M is my princess, my spoiled princess at that...I wouldnt want to share that, plus with M being the only girl, her and I will have a great bond...so I hope.

As I said before, I am pregnant. 30 weeks to be exact. I am 8-9 weeks out from a c-section which will mark the end of my child bearing years. Yes, I am getting a tubal done. I am sort of sad about it. When I first got pregnant 7 years ago, I never wanted kids...then never wanted more then 2...well here we are. I am having my 4th. I love my kids. I enjoy being pregnant (to a degree, as this pregnancy has not agreed with me at all). But nonetheless, the time has come to an end.

I am sure that my husband would entertain my idea of having a 5th if I presented it to him (all the while making the plans to get a Vasectomy in secret). But I need to be done...for my own sanity.

I want to go pee alone (or atleast without a little hand reaching under the door). I want to shower without worrying that I will have an audience. I want to be able to leave the room and not worry about what my 1 and 2 year old are doing....

No babies here. As of July, this baby factory will be permantly shut down. Pink slips have been given to all the workers, and a pending eviction notice has been issued to the tenant still residing there.

No amount of T.A.R.P money or government intervention will save this factory!

Writers Workshop: Describe a moment you realized you and your SO were different?

I have decided to join in on the Writer's Workshop on Mama's Losin It! This is the prompt that I chose: Describe a moment when you realized you and your SO were different:

One evening, we were sitting down to dinner. A rare occasion since he works 12 hour days and misses family dinner time. I had tried a new variation of meatloaf which he was looking at as though it was forensic evidence at a crime scene. "What is this?" he asks. I start to feel defensive, "It's meatloaf dummy." I say. "Oh." I watch him out of the corner of my eye, picking it apart. "What are you doing?" I ask "It's got celery and onions in it" he says laughing.

At this point I am no longer laughing. I am crushed. He doesnt like my cooking. I start to cry. He starts to laugh. This makes me cry more.

It was at this point I realized that we are different. He is so easy going and laughs everything off, me I am so overly sensitive that the thought of preparing a hated meatloaf sent me into tears.

Maybe I should learn to relax....

Then again maybe not, he did feel so bad that night that he ate 2 helpings of the meatloaf (after picking out the onions and celery...)