Anger management

So the other day I was driving down the road looking for a parking place. I spied one right in front of the store I was going to, hit the turn signal and began slowing down. I was about three spots away when I saw a blur of white to my right. The blur zoomed past, cut in front of me and took my parking spot. Needless to say, happiness and joy did not overflow inside of me.
I was on the phone with my wife at the time. And before you start in on me about talking on the phone while driving, let me assure that I can hold a conversation and not crash my car. I am firmly against banning cell phones while driving, simply because the cell phones are not the problem. It’s people not paying attention. If we are banning driving distractions, we need to add eating, putting on makeup, attempting to discipline children in the way back, changing the radio and shaving (especially legs).
And I know some of you will say, “But, Mike, you should only be driving while driving. Distractions are dangerous.” And to that I say, trust me. I know what I’m doing. Maybe not everyone can, say, write their column while driving on the interstate. But maybe my laptop rests quite nicely on the center console.
So anyhow, I pulled into a spot a few places down and could feel my blood pressure kicking up a couple of notches. After all, someone took my parking place. He might as well have slapped me.
My wife knows me better than anyone. “Stop,” she said. She didn’t have to finish. I sighed, and said, “I know.”
What she meant by “Stop” was:
“Stop, take a deep breath, and realize that it’s not that big of a deal.”
Or, perhaps, “Stop. Do not leave a note on his windshield that reads, ‘Due to your awful driving, something is now missing from your car. Try and find it.’”
Or, even “Stop. Do not approach the driver and say, ‘You took my parking place. It’s go time, tough guy.’”
She was right, of course. There was a time in my life when I would have said something. I would have spontaneously sprinted up to the guy and asked him what happened to the cactus. He would ask, “What cactus?” I would say, “The cactus you traded brains with!” And then whirl away with a triumphant victory dance, too blinded with rage to realize that the previous exchange not only was NOT an excellent put-down, but actually made very little sense.
But I said nothing. I watched him walk away, hoping that karma would be a good friend of mine. It truly brings me comfort to know that this guy, somewhere down the road, will, say, be bitten by a goat at a petting zoo.
The hands of cosmic forces aside, another reason that my temper has calmed over the years is my wife. When we first started dating, I was what some may call a bit of a hothead. Little things would set me off. I remember one time getting upset about some volleyball officiating in an intramural game. I was quite upset, had a few choice words, and stormed out of the gym. And, in a stunning display of idiocy, I tried to make a big showy exit, letting folks know what I thought, as I stormed through the turnstile exit. Unfortunately, I tried to exit through the entrance turnstile, so it did not turn, and I walked square into it, flipping over, much to the delight of everyone in the gym but me.
But over the years, my wife made it her mission to remind me when things were not worth getting upset about. On occasion, my natural tendency to get worked up over little things will come out, and she will remind me of the level of importance of said issue. For example, the other day I came home from work, and by my account, every possible light and electronic device in my home was operating. I head upstairs and find my wife giving the kids baths. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I am upstairs taking a bath, I have zero need for a television blaring “Go, Diego, Go” downstairs. I begin my well-rehearsed bit about “When you’re done watching television, you turn it off. And lights? The switches are by the door. You HAVE to walk past them to leave a room unless you go out a window and by my count no one is leaving through a window...”
My wife walked over to greet me. And was it a “How was your day, honey?” How about a “Look, it’s Daddy!”? Oh, no, you can assure yourself it was not. The greeting involved a recount of two tired kids, the end of a long day, a fight involving a peanut butter sandwich and a lamp, one chronically unpantsed little boy, and the calming salvation of a nice big bubble bath. It ended with “So I’m sorry if I didn’t run around and turn off all of the lights, but I was trying to tame wild children.” She also informed me that I had walked past all of the lights and televisions to let her know this, which was a valid point.
But the final point was this: Is it that big of a deal? In the grand scheme of things, yes. Yes it is. Wait — deep breath. OK, so it’s not. You can’t let the little things stress you. Instead, you go into the bathroom and take joy in your kids splashing you at bath time. And, as you’re putting them to sleep, you tell them that this weekend, you’re taking them to the zoo. There’s a goat daddy wants to see.