A while back Randy the perfekt husband and I got into a pretty heated discussion. To suggest that there were “raised voices” is an understatement. But lemme just say how glad I am we live in new construction with those energy efficient (and thereby pretty damn soundproof) double-paned windows. Although the houses in our hood are sooo close together that anyone looking out their window could easily see that the violent gesticulating was NOT the result of a friendly game of charades.  (Besides I’m pretty sure there’s no song, book or movie with a “middle finger” in the title).

Anyhow, we shouted discussed vociferously about, of all things, how best to handle helping our daughter Julia with an upcoming book report. Now mind you she’s only in first grade. Yet the passion we both felt on this topic was akin to what those warring nations must feel when trying to discuss their “differences of opinion” at the UN without the benefit of weapons of mass destruction. (Although the blender on the center island could have made an effective projectile if I had a smidge more Italian blood in me).

Anyway, though I’m sure I’ve piqued your curiosity as to the  details of this argument, they are better saved for a subsequent post about the differences between the LAID-BACK PARENT and the ANAL RETENTIVE one (I’ll leave you to guess which I am).

The point is, we had a rare argument in front of our daughter. (The rare part being that it was IN FRONT of our daughter). Nevertheless, we seemed to have trouble controlling ourselves and launched into a flurry of heated exchanges which sent poor Julia RUNNING FROM THE ROOM!

As the “discussion” continued/escalated, with only the 4 foot slab of granite center island keeping us from each other’s jugulars, Julia finally reappeared from whatever dark recess of the house she had been COWERING IN to protect herself from the immaturity of her supposedly “mature” parents.

Dressed in a sheer purple Princess Jasmine robe over her clothes and dark sunglasses with FLASHING BLUE LIGHTS over her eyes, she produced a piece of paper (pictured below) for us to read. It was from Dr. Corbor (the persona she had taken on and that was presently before us).   

On it she had written:

 Dr. Corbor  or Dr. Stop Fighting   (apparently an aka)

 From offises around the world  (apparently a successful doctor too!)

 There was a signature spot for Dad and one for Mom beneath which it read:

 If you sine you must stop fighting right now!

 And she had us circle “yes” or “no”, next to our names to signify our intentions.

Well, needless to say we didn’t have to think long before signing. (Although okay, I admit, I needed a FEW MORE SECONDS than my husband since I am less mature and consequently more apt to hold on to my anger than he). But we relented and succumbed to the wisdom of a then 6 year-old (who was basically telling us we needed to seriously get a grip) as well as to our better judgment as parents who knew that escalating such a disagreement to such a ridiculous level and in front of our child…was probably not in the best interest of our child OR our marriage.

We “sined” and brought the temperature of the room back to a more comfortable level filled with assurances to our daughter of our love for her.

In the end, I can’t say we came to an absolute agreement with regard to the topic of our argument (cuz let’s face it, we didn’t and likely never will). But WE DID AGREE that we both want what’s best for our kid. And that we can probably come to that conclusion WITHOUT THE RAISED VOICES.

Besides that whole Dr. Corbor thing kind of freaked me out in a Sybil kind of way. And I know I DO NOT want to do THAT to my kid. So if it means curbing my Italian temper…I guess I will…have to drink more wine.