My Husband Destroyed My Muffins

How I'm Working With My Righteousness

I was baking muffins for our kids. They were super cute muffins, too, with sprinkles on top.

My husband was cleaning and cooking in the kitchen at the same time. He haphazardly threw a sheet pan of broccoli into the oven. Right on top of my adorable muffins.

Fast forward ten minutes, I go to check the muffins, and they are completely baked onto the bottom of the sheet pan. Smushed and unsalvageable. Sprinkles and all.

"What the heck?" I gasped. He looked up. "Oh, whoops," he said.

Let me tell you..."oh whoops" did not feel good enough. In fact, it felt like a slap in the face!

Today, I'm sharing my own behind-the-scenes process from this situation. Moments like these aren't a big deal on their own, but I think you'll find if you add them up, they matter. In fact, they create the landscape of a relationship.

Keep reading to hear what happened next...

Okay, so muffins ruined. I angrily cleaned up the mess and rapidly made another batch from memory. He kept doing what he was doing (broccoli, dishes, etc.).

I was so mad. Like, seriously, so, so mad.

My inner monologue was racing. Why wasn't he more remorseful about smushing the muffins? Why wasn't he dropping the tasks he was doing to help me? Every few minutes I tossed out an irritated comment to try to get a response out of him. I got some, "Yeah, I'm really sorry"s and the like, but nothing hit the spot.

I was so caught up feeling wronged and righteous. Ruminating on how his response was incorrect.

I had a whole script prepared for him that would have made it better! If only he had said, "Oh no, I'm so sorry! You worked hard on those, here let me help." Then I wouldn't be mad about the muffins. In fact, it wasn't about the muffins! It was about his response and lack thereof. Surely I wouldn't be this mad just about an honest mistake. It's that he was failing to take accountability. The buzzing thoughts added bitter satisfaction to my anger.

Round and round I went in this loop. And then, amidst the noise, a thought chimed through.

I considered...how would he respond if the situation were reversed? Would he tell me that my apology was wrong? That I should drop everything to help him? Would he storm around the kitchen till he got the exact right words from me?

The question didn't need to be rhetorical, because while I've never smashed his muffins with a sheet pan, I've fucked up. Plenty. I'm a pretty clumsy person. I have dropped and broken many things. Although in general I'm good with details, sometimes I can be kind of spacey and have made some sizable mistakes (ahem buying non-refundable flights for the wrong day for our whole family).

I can say with certainty that my husband would never, ever react to a mistake of mine in the way I was currently reacting to his.

He would not tell me to act more sorry. He would not have a specific apology script in mind for me. He would not take up all the air in the room showing how mad he was about something that was fundamentally fixable. In fact, when I've messed up, big and small, he's never been anything but gracious and caring.

I could feel the anger dissipating. But I also felt a bit sheepish. What was I doing? Why was I dying on this hill? They're muffins! Move on.

At the same time, another voice chimed in. "Yeah, it's true he wouldn't react this way! But it's not the same. You carry a lot of mental load. The muffins are symbolic. It's disrespectful to your labor, that's why you're so upset."

It's true that we are actively untangling a dynamic where I have carried an unfair proportion of mental load. It's true that the muffins felt symbolic. It's true that perhaps we really can't compare how he would feel and respond because he plays a different role in our home than I do.

Here's what's also true. I don't want to react with harshness and righteousness to my partner's mistakes, particularly when they are this mundane and fixable. It is genuinely not cool behavior. I do have compassion for my big reaction. I see where it's rooted. But it's not in line with my values or goals for myself. Not one bit.

Zoomed out, yeah, he under-reacted a bit. I probably would have responded well to a more effusive apology. But reality is, that's not his personality. He under-reacts to most everything (like those expensive, non-refundable tickets). I chose a very even-keeled partner, and thus it's not shocking when he's, well, even-keeled.

But also...I was distorting and projecting like crazy. I took an honest mistake made while he was also rushing around getting stuff done for our family, just like me, and turned it into a personalized attack. I analyzed his level of remorse and assessed its authenticity. I've had others react to my actions this way, and it's very unpleasant. I don't give myself a pass to do it to him.

In the context of my marriage with a healthy partner who is invested in our relationship, I'm going to hold myself accountable, even when at the first glance I might think I've been wronged. I know that's not everyone's context, and I know that this same scenario could hold different meanings in different relationships.

For me, anger can hide the nuance of real life. It can operate like a permission slip, telling me it's okay to lash out. Part of being someone who feels anger deeply is also taking responsibility for my actions when angry. Even when he smashed my muffins first.

Sometimes when I share stories like this, I get emails from people who feel like I'm being too hard on myself. Largely, I think this means something in the story bumped one of their own sensitivities or tendencies.

For me, this type of self-reflection actually feels deeply self-compassionate. I have a warm and friendly relationship with my anger. We're pals. I also know its blind spots.

I strongly believe that when we're truly taking accountability with ourselves, it's not out of shame. It's not with an axe to grind or something to prove. It's a softer, gentler energy. No pressure, no push. Just observation.

If that's a type of accountability you're unfamiliar with, just consider. What would it be like if you could see your own reactions, mistakes, messes...with curiosity, kindness, and willingness to change?