A rare thing happened this weekend: E and I got into a raging fight.

It started with him coming home super late after a day at the beach with his friends, and then me finding out he got the car stuck in the sand after he let someone else drive it. It ended with me in tears, screaming, “I’m tired of feeling like the mom and the maid around here!”

I’ll spare you the blow by blow (he was right on a few points, including the car being fine and him having no choice but to let someone else pick him up after having to surf two miles away from shore to retrieve his friend’s board. I was right about feeling like the maid since we haven’t gone out on a day trip or date alone in months). But this was the first time we have ever gone to bed angry, and the first time I’ve ever cried and locked myself in a bathroom before. I partly blame PMS for that reaction.

During the fight, I blurted out something along the lines of “I’m tired of feeling like the mother, like I’m always saying, ‘watch out for this’ and ‘be careful of that,’ ‘and don’t do this.’ I’m in the kitchen all time making you sandwiches or learning how to make something new for a sandwich. And while you were out with our friends I clean this whole house, and what thanks do I get?! Feeling like the housekeeper! We don’t even have kids! How about flowers once in a while, or a dinner out, or something?”

Mind you, I’ve written several posts about him cleaning the floors and tending to the garden. He has gotten better at the dishes, too. And, he cooks just as much as I do, and usually something inspired by chefs like Eric Ripert or David Chang or Daniel Boulud. Again, I blame PMS.

After things calmed down, we hugged, kissed, said “I’m sorry,” and went to brunch to a place that doesn’t serve sandwiches (our favorite, Gran Electrica). By ourselves. “On the way back, let’s get some flowers for the apartment. It will be nice to have something beautiful and living in our kitchen.” We held hands on the way to the florist. We took our time getting there and observed families and excited teenagers walking towards Brooklyn Bridge Park. It felt nice to slow things down, to walk around for enjoyment and to take in the moment.

E asked me what flowers I liked. We picked up vibrant green tree branches for our taller vases and some bushy hydrangeas. It felt nice to buy things not for necessity, like groceries, but just because they’re pretty and make us happy.

I took a break from the kitchen for the rest of the day. I sat in the office and finished a book I’d been meaning to finish. I went for a run and then came back and deep conditioned my hair. When dinnertime rolled around, E said, “let’s order in.” We ate together on our balcony, in front of our garden, just the two of us under a full moon in the night sky. I felt like we reconnected as a couple, in this adventure of life together, not two people racing to survive each day.

So, I don’t have a sandwich to post today. But I share a photo of these hydrangeas instead to symbolize how just two things sitting alone, just being, in a glass house can be a beautiful thing. I’ll go back into the kitchen tomorrow, feeling appreciated by and appreciative of the person I’m cooking for.

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