THE BIG BLOW-UP

Dearest Friends,

In some ways my hubby and I are a lot alike. For one thing, we are both extremely non-confrontational. We'd do just about anything to avoid an argument -- our own, or anyone else's. In my case it was so extreme that just watching things like the Three Stooges or Abbot and Costello could make me twitchy. Part of this, I'm sure, is that neither of us has a glib tongue. John is a good listener, a great audience. I'm the one who thinks of brilliant rejoinders -- hours after the fact when it's too late to do me any good! Hence, we would surely lose in a battle of words, especially with someone who could think on the fly. Anyhoo, since we both hated arguing, and had not yet been taught how to handle disagreements productively, a lot of stuff was still getting swept under the rug in those days.

In other ways we were polar opposites. It was that classic half-empty/half-full scenario. No matter how bad things got, I usually managed to stay fairly cheerful. No matter how good things got, John still managed to stay fairly glum -- which created a nice balance, for the most part. While living the ex-pat life, however, it actually led to one of our biggest fights.

Miss Becky's nest in the Indo-house, where she did her thinking and writing.

You see, I did such a good job of making the best of things that, eventually, John would always forget that there was any down-side to my situation -- that I had given anything up, or made any trade-offs to be there. All he saw was that he had to go to work every day, while I stayed home with a maid and a driver. As if that weren't bad enough, I had the nerve to be all chipper when he got home each day, wanting to tell him about all the fun things the kids and I did while he was at work! Anyway, things finally came to a head one weekend when John went to make a peanut butter sandwich, and discovered we were out of bread. He blurted out something rather hurtful, on the order of "You'd think a woman who didn't have a damn thing to do all day could at least manage to keep bread in the house!", then grabbed the kids and headed off to the snack bar, leaving me standing there with my mouth agape.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, words finally came to me, but of course, I had no one to say them to. They didn't come in a gentle way, either. It was more of an eruption. I had no choice but to grab a pen and start writing a letter to my hubby. I don't remember exactly what was in that one, but I do recall it as one of my better letters -- one where I was able to open his eyes to a few truths, but in a humorous way. I think I started out apologizing for the error of my ways, and telling him he deserved much better. Perhaps he deserved one of the wives we knew who stayed drunk all day long, because it was the only way they could deal with the tedious monotony of their lives here. Or perhaps he should be with the one who was sneaking off to sleep with her hubby's best friend while he was at work. Then again, maybe he would prefer one of those who seemed to be back in the states or away on trips more than they were ever here on the compound, or, better yet, one who refused to come to Indonesia in the first place, even if it meant death to her hubby's career. Oh wait, here's an idea! Maybe I should trade in my part-time maid and the ordeal of fixing my whole family three meals a day, from scratch, almost every darn day, and get not only a live-in maid and a cook, like most everyone we knew, but also a nanny for the kids, like a few others had. That way I could devote every waking minute to his needs.

OK, maybe I didn't really say all that. I think I got a bit carried away there towards the end. Skip that last part and jump ahead to where I closed by saying something like "Silly me! I never knew I actually had a choice in any of this. I thought I had to quit my job at Chez Vous, say goodbye to my friends and family, and a home and a church I adored, to follow you to the ends of the earth. I thought it was my duty to make the most of the situation, and to stay as busy and cheerful as possible. I thought that was what you wanted! Was I wrong? If so, there is a simple solution. Book those tickets and we can be on the next plane outta here!"

His reply? "Damn, Becky! Did you have to go and make me laugh? Couldn't you let me enjoy my righteous indignation a little bit longer,  just this once?"