Have you ever had one of those moments, when your spouse does something, and your inner monologue is just going off on this huge rant?

You know, those moments after, where you’re sitting there with your arms folded on the couch and when he asks what’s wrong and you tell him “nothing,” move to a “you know, it’s just funny that . . .” and quickly spiral down that rabbit hole?

I had one of those today.

I went into the bathroom earlier and noticed an empty box from the shower mirror that my husband opened this morning. You can see that there is a trash can under his sink, but the box just didn’t make it into the trash.

I could feel my nostrils flaring.

I could feel my cheeks getting hot.

I could hear the tiny Dana on my shoulder, getting ready to help me prepare my bullet-pointed rant that I would give him later.

I could feel my eyes widening in disbelief.

But then I remembered how his morning went.

He overslept.

He quickly took a shower.

He hurriedly got dressed.

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I could hear him cursing under his breath when he stubbed his toe in his rush, as he didn’t want to be too loud and wake me up.

He rushed downstairs.

He was fumbling in the refrigerator.

The baby monitor next to my pillow started to light up, and my bedroom was soon filled with the sound of waking coos.

I rubbed my eyes and started to get out of bed to get the baby’s breakfast together, but the monitor then picked up the sweetest thing.

“Hey, big guy. I got your breakfast all ready downstairs.”

My husband had sneaked back upstairs to care for our son, so I could get a few more minutes in bed. Even in his rush and oversleeping, he took over the morning responsibilities, knowing I could use the assistance.

Even though he had to leave for work, which allows me to be a full-time stay-at-home-mom.

He didn’t even have to ask.

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So, after I saw the empty box sitting so close to the trash can, I looked into the mirror and saw my nasty reflection staring back at me.

This isn’t what marriage is about.

It’s about picking your battles and remembering, at the end of the day, that sometimes, these little things just aren’t worth the fight.

It’s about compromise.

And respect.

And loving them even in their forgetfulness, because they still put you first.

So please ladies, next time you run into a situation like this, take a moment.



And as you throw away the item—be it an empty box, toilet paper roll, or whatever—throw that nasty reflection away with it.

This post originally appeared on Millennial Mom Confessions

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Dana Moss

I am a first-time mom who has no clue where I am or what I'm doing 99.9% of the time. I am a horrendous housewife to my husband of four years and would rather have bamboo shoved under my fingernails than load the dishwasher or fold the clothes that have been sitting in the dryer for a week and a half.