Dirty Dishes and Relationship Residue

It was after dinner and there were three bowls in the sink sloshing oily puddles of soap suds, the residue of steak, barbecue sauce, and a few lone peas. I had the baby strapped to me in a Baby Bjorn, and he was starting to fuss, but I thought for sure I had enough time to rinse these few dishes and get the dishwasher started before I started the bedtime routine.

But then I opened the dishwasher, and it was empty.

David putting away the "clean" dishes.
David putting away the “clean” dishes.

My husband David had put them all away, which normally would have been great, the kind of thing for which I’d give him a kiss and a thank you. But this time I whined. “David! You put away a load of dirty dishes!” Our silverware drawer and cabinets were now full of dirty cups, plates, forks, and spoons. To make it worse, we’d just had a houseful of guests and I’ve always been a bit of a germaphobe. My mom remembers me at the age of four telling my siblings to get their hands off my sippy cup—“Germy! Germy!” I’d exclaim.

At this point the baby was fussing more, and I needed to get this blog post written. I feared that even if I got the baby to sleep, I’d have to write this post in staccato intervals of 20 minutes because it seemed that that’s about how long the baby would actually stay sleeping on his own at night. I was tired and thirsty, and wanted a glass of water but I didn’t know which glass I could trust. Now I felt like I needed to unload my cabinets and rewash everything.

The longer I stood there looking for a clean glass the more agitated I got. My voice rose and my complaints grew longer and meaner until I was almost yelling—even though I knew that it was just an accident and that David wasn’t purposefully trying to make my life more difficult.

Amber, frustration building
Amber, frustration building

But there’s something about ripping into someone that feels so great in the moment. Any little stress, anxiety, guilt seems smaller when I’m blaming someone else for my problems.

I gave up and just kind of stormed out to put the baby to bed. As I lay there beside himnursing him to sleep—a rush of oxytocin ( the “love hormone” women get from breastfeeding and sex) must have mellowed me out, because I started to feel really sorry for how I’d treated David. When baby’s fluttering eyelids had closed I tiptoed out to apologize. I was envisioning a long hug and a rush of warm fuzzy forgiveness feelings. But thats not what happened. Instead David put up a stiff arm when I tried to go in for a hug. He said he forgave me, but he looked hurt and there was something unpleasant between us still.

“I forgive you,” he said. “But forgiving is not the same thing as not remembering. I remember your stinging words and the stinging tone in which you said the stinging words.” His point was that even though I apologized, my actions still had consequences—I had hurt him and even though he was choosing to forgive me, he didn’t really feel like forgiving me.

This reminded me of a similar problem we’d recently had with our dishwasher. The dishes were coming out all spotty with a cloudy coating of who knows what. It struck me that David and I were now experiencing another kind of gunky residue—not on our dishes, but on our relationship. The fight was over, he had forgiven me, but the hurt lingered like that cloudy residue.

One of David’s pet peeves is when I leave dishes in the sink without rinsing them. The food hardens into crusty fixtures that become semi-permanent and require Hulk-like strength to remove. I think that’s what can happen in relationships. If you don’t address the little problems as they happen, the residue of past hurts sticks around and eventually causes bigger problems.

Reconciled at the dishwasher
Reconciled at the dishwasher

An apology is absolutely the place to start in this kind of situation, but getting the relationship back to its lemony fresh sparkle requires more than that—it also requires love in action. So tonight David and I took a little time goofing off in the kitchen, laughing together, and moving those dirty dishes he had put into the cupboards back into the dishwasher again.

Amber

Amber lives in Ohio with her husband, David, and their three sons. She and David are currently writing a book about young adults’ stories of forming relationships and families.Amber is part of iBiL because she was moved by the stories of her peers, and believes that we as a generation can come together to create stronger marriages and families for the next generation.
Amber

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3 Comments

  • Thanks for your transparency, Amber! I do this too on tough days. Call it my “mommy meltdown.” Not exactly the best way to be, but it is real. Thank heavens for grace to restore that lemony-fresh sparkle. 🙂 Love you guys!

  • Outstanding article Mrs. Lapp. The maturity and insight that went into this article were amazing for a relatively young married couple. My wife and I will be married 23 years in November and we still have this exact same problem with our dishes. I’ll have to remember this article next time we get into a “discussion” after one of us loads the dirty dishes back into the kitchen cabinets.

  • I love these posts, David & Amber. It’s so great to see what a ministry you are able to have just through telling the story of your everyday love. Keep it up. The world needs an example of true love more and more each day.

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