Yesterday, I came home feeling good. Really good.
I had spent the afternoon at the salon, and for the first time in a while, I actually liked how I looked walking out. The last appointment had been awful, but today I felt lighter. Confident.
Luca greeted me with a big hug as soon as I walked through the door, and I went straight into dinner mode. Nothing fancy—dino nuggets for him, finishing off the chili Jon had made yesterday for us. I set out bowls for everyone, sat down at the table with Luca, and asked Jon if he wanted to sit with us.
No, he said, standing by the counter, eating straight from his bowl.
Then Luca turned to him. Papa, sit. Papa, sit.
And of course, he couldn’t say no to that. He sat. It felt… okay. A little tense, but I tried to shake it off.
When we finished eating, I asked if we could divide and conquer the evening tasks. Jon’s response:
Oh, you mean like we did when I took Luca for an hour while you were at the salon?
And just like that, my heart sank.
I had gone during work hours specifically to avoid taking time from family, and I had texted him when I was running late. He was with Luca for 1 hour and 10 minutes—40 minutes more than our usual afternoon agreement. But here it was. The dig. The resentment.
He sighed, then muttered, I’ll take care of the kitchen.
I could have left it at that. Could have just walked away. Instead, I took care of the kitchen myself—because I knew if I didn’t, I’d likely wake up to a mess, and I hate starting my day that way.
I don’t know what was in the air tonight. If he was really upset about me being late, or if something else was simmering under the surface. I didn’t ask.
Instead, I kept moving.
Made dinner. Cleaned the kitchen. Gave Luca a shower. Played with him. Snuggled with him. And when bedtime came, I lingered.
I could sit in his room forever, just holding him the way we do—his tiny hands on my face, his sleepy little voice answering my questions about the day.
And yet, under it all, the weight was there.
I want more partnership in this. More balance. More us. But I hate how much I question myself for even wanting that. It makes me feel like I’m complaining about being with my own son.
But that’s not it. That’s never it.
I love Luca with every ounce of me. I love being with him.
But I don’t love doing everything while Jon sits on the couch, watching TV, not doing anything.
Still, I didn’t pick a fight. I reminded myself why I’m doing this. Why I’m choosing to push forward, to not let resentment take over.
Luca went to bed. And I got on the Peloton.
Because no matter how heavy today felt, I’m still in this.