Last night I sat down to the dinner table and I knew something was wrong. I can tell by the set of your chin that you're trying not to cry. And I know, I just know, that you're going to say nothing's wrong.
And I'm mad already. Because something is wrong. It's obvious! How can you sit there trying not to cry and tell me nothing's wrong!
But I ask anyway, hoping you'll surprise me.
You don't.
And I yell. Just once, would you tell me what's wrong! You know I'm not going to let it go, so knock this off!
You start to deny it again and I won't even let you finish your sentence- I'm banging on the table now- Knock it off!
So you finally spill the beans. You think I'm stretched too thin. That with your little sister to take care of, I'm at my wit's end to run the house.
Well.
The house certainly looks that way. And it is true I would have gotten more done today without your little sister to take care of.
But it's also true that you and I started a major rearrainging project today that threw to the winds what little order our house had. It is stressful to be in the mess, and I know you hate it, but nobody could have finished in two hours what we started.
We'll work on it bit by bit until it's better. At times like this I feel lazy. Slovenly. How could I let it come to this? And you always look at me like I'm working so hard; like I'm about to fall apart with the frenzy of my efforts.
I wonder what on earth your wife will be like.
Love you sooo much,
Mom
