Lovey and I were talking on the phone this past weekend, and she said something that has stuck in my head since then.
"You're a pushover," she told me. "I love you, but you are."
And, man, if I weren't such a pushover, it would've come to fisticuffs!
Alright, it wouldn't have. And not because what she said is true, but because we went to school together, and I can still remember the whoopings she administered to a number of our unlucky classmates. The girl's scrappy, yo.
But while I have to respectfully disagree with her statement (please don't hurt me), her epithet of me is not completely unwarranted. I do have a hard time saying no to people. I can't tell you how many times in my life I have been told, "You're just too nice," in a bad way.
Man, if only they'd read my blog...
I can understand, from her point of view, why it would seem that I'm always caving to other people's demands. She's a strong, dominant woman who likes to have things her way. I wouldn't call her a control freak (to her face), but she certainly wears the pants in that family.
And while my fashion choices do tend to favor pants, dominant I am not.
I'm probably as laid back as a Republican can possibly get.
But a pushover? I don't think so. I have the mettle when it really counts. Just ask the women in my first mothers' group who made disparaging comments about my son behind my back.
Homey don't play that.
It takes a lot to rile me, but when you do, I will unleash the Avery Gray brand of fury on you--a piquant blend of pain and indigestion--the likes of which you won't soon forget. Unless I knock you silly with a well-placed roundhouse kick to the head, which badmouthing my son will get you.
I bike, people. You don't want to test me.
But anything less than that? Eh.
In the grand scheme of things, acquiescing to my husband's desire to spend wads of cash on a new video game system matters far less to me than having something we can enjoy doing together as a family. And if it makes him happy to boot, so much the better, because in the big picture, my life is pretty damned good thanks to him.
Plus, now if I find a set of patio furniture and spend a ridiculous amount of money on it, he hasn't got a leg to stand on, has he?
I pick my battles, my friend, and I choose them well.