Dear Ms Mabel, 

Today, my wife asked me to make the bed. She normally does it, but I didn’t mind helping. After I made it, she came over and criticized how I did. I’ll admit, it wasn’t as good as the way she did it, but still. She should be happy I even did it, right? Why does she always want to start a fight?

Sincerely,

A Good Husband

Millersville, TN

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Truth be told, I’d just as soon hold my bare arm over a big skillet full of bacon set on high than to tell a grown man where he’s gone wrong, but every woman reading this, myself included, knows darn well that you messed that bed up on purpose. Your wife isn’t exactly the angel she thinks she is, either. 

Let's talk. 

I was married for over 50 years, so this little spat reminds me of a lot of things that happened over that time, but it also calls to mind the dumbest argument I’ve ever witnessed. 

One evening, Momma and I were getting supper on the table when Daddy and my brothers came in all in a fuss. My oldest brother, Tom, who was home from college that weekend, was talking to my Daddy in a way I’d never seen him do. His face was red, teeth gritted, fists clenched — just all together fightin’ mad. 

Daddy, who was usually a quiet sort, was hollering right back at him with his finger in Tom's face, about a half inch from his nose.  My other two brothers were just standing back, mouths hanging wide open, afraid to move. Years later, we joked that we were all thinking the same thing … we might end up a brother short by the end of the night. 

“I came home this weekend because you wanted me to help work cattle!” Tom yelled. ”But all you’ve done is complain about my help. I didn’t have to come!”

“You’re right! You didn’t have to come!” Daddy shouted back.

“If you didn’t want me here, then why did you ask me to come home to help?” replied Tom.

“I didn’t know you weren’t going to listen to a dang thing I asked you to do!” Daddy said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“You’re unbelievable!” Tom hollered at his highest volume. He opened his mouth to say something else but instead turned around and stormed out of the house. He didn’t come back until we were all sound asleep that night.

Dinner was quiet and tense. Daddy went out onto the porch as soon as he finished and just sat there by himself. After Momma tucked me in that night, I waited a few minutes and then got up to sneak into my brothers’ room. I could hear Momma and Daddy talking in the kitchen. Their voices were hushed, but I could tell Momma was upset.

“He’s a good boy,” she said. 

“He isn’t a boy anymore,” Daddy replied. “Or so he thinks. He thinks he knows how to do it all now, a better way than I taught him.” 

I didn’t have to actually see her to know what she did next. Just like every other time she was trying to make a point, I bet she flopped a dish towel up over her shoulder and stuck a hand on her hip.

“What’s more important, John?” Momma questioned. “Doing right or being right?

I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop any longer, so I eased my brothers’ door open and stepped into the darkness. David, the second oldest, quickly flicked on the lamp. They had been laying there, wide awake, reliving the events of the day. 

“Come on and sit down, Mabel,” Jerry said. “I know you’ve got questions.” 

I crawled up on the end of his bed and they proceeded to fill in all the missing details of the day.

The day had started like all the rest before. Daddy and Jerry were running the cattle up the hill while Tom and David separated and sorted them into the pens. Right off the bat, Tom was trying to tell Daddy a new thing he wanted to try. He was learning some stuff in his Ag classes at the university, new techniques and technology that made a farmer's job easier. Daddy didn’t take any time to listen to Tom and just blew him off. As the day went on, Tom started doing things his own way and Daddy was getting irritated. 

“They were both getting the same result,” David said with a sigh. “Just going about it differently.” 

“The more Daddy got irritated at Tom, the more Tom got irritated at Daddy, and they eventually exploded over nothing,” added Jerry.

I laid in bed that night so confused. I wanted to find a place to rest my blame, but I couldn’t decide who was wrong. I adored both my Daddy and Tom. They were my heroes. It hurt my heart thinking about how they’d treated each other. I struggled to wrap my head around how they could both be right and wrong at the same time, but I couldn’t get to any other conclusion.  Eventually, I came to the agreement I was just going to forgive them because there was nothing else left to do. 

Alright, now back to you and your wife.

As I said before, just like both Tom and Daddy were wrong AND right, so are both of y’all. That’s the thing about arguments and disagreements between loved ones, very rarely is the blame completely one-sided. You did a lazy job of making the bed, and she failed to let you do the job your way, even though she gave you the job to begin with. 

You knew she wasn’t going to be happy, and she couldn’t let go of the control. Now, I get where she’s coming from, I too like my bed just so. But darlin’, if you’re reading this, you can’t micromanage another grown adult's tasks, no matter if they need it or not. It’s no good for anyone, and you’ll be much more at peace with a “do you” attitude in regards to things outside of your control. 

And as for you, son, shame on you for purposely doing a halfway job knowing it would bother her. I think she’s got enough on her plate, don’t you? 

The good news is, the only remedy needed is an apology from both of you. Moving forward, you focus on doing things the way that makes her happy (because you love her), she focuses less on the way you do it (because she loves the peace of mind), and y’all will be just fine. Decide right now for yourselves which is more important, doing right or being right? That’ll fix you both up real quick. 

Well, that’s all for now. Y’all keep sending me questions and I’ll keep rambling on as long as you’ll read it. Submit your questions online here.