Antagonistic to Harmonious

Mason Cooley once said, "Antagonistic cooperation is the principle of all markets and many marriages."  I have been living in this bubble for several months since we started ttwd, understanding the benefits, and yet holding on to my own angst.  My cooperation was (and often still is) filed with a non-specific anxiety, until recently when I started to notice a change in myself.

It started to happen so subtly that I didn't even catch it at first. The habit crept into my marriage like a house guest who came for the weekend and decided to put down roots in the living room. I'm talking about my willingness to be corrected after dropping the ball on one of B'Man's spankable pet peeves. It happens quickly, cleanly, without words most of the time, and once it's over I return to my regularly scheduled programming after a word from my sponsor.

Perhaps you can relate if I describe it this way:

In the Movie The Sound of Music, Captain Von Trapp calls his children down to introduce them to Maria, the new Governess. They march in Military style, single file all the way down the stairs in perfect unison, but something is out of place. Brigitta, Played by Angela Cartwright, is conspicuously missing from the line, but comes in from another room with her nose in a book . Captain Von Trapp walks over to her, clears his throat, and she slowly lowers the book to find a mildly irritated father glaring at her. He holds his hand out and she sheepishly hands him the book, and without being asked to, turns around and slightly bends over while the Captain gives her a light swat with the book on her backside. There are no words, no arguments, no tears, no resentment, no anger, and Brigitta knows exactly what is expected of her.

This is what is happening with B'Man and myself. I noticed it last week when I was in the kitchen working on dinner, B'Man bellowed in his inimitable way that the remote was missing from the den... again. I remember grimacing for a moment as I scanned the living room with my eyes, spotted the wayward remote and raced over to retrieve it. I trotted to the den to find my captain with his hands on his hips and a glare in his eyes. I handed it to him and searched his eyes for some hint of a reprieve. There was none. I, like Brigitta, knew exactly what was expected of me, and without being prompted, turned around and bent over giving B'Man a clear target. I felt two stinging slaps to my behind with the long, flat, plastic remote, and waited until I heard him collapse on the couch and turn on the television.

It was only slightly painful, a tad embarrassing, and a bit humorous as I trotted back to the kitchen to finish peeling my eggplant.  Within seconds the incident is forgotten, put behind me, and I am laughing at some tone deaf contestent on Dont Forget the Words.  I'm beginning to fight ttwd less and less with everyday that goes by, and lately I've begun to even invoke a comfortable cooperation in the whole process. 

 

I guess the antagonism is being burned off to reveal a harmonious gold underneath.  Don't get me wrong, I've still got a bit of a disobedient fight in me, but I'm learning how to pick my battles.  And strangely enough, there seem to be fewer of them.