I found my son’s homework in the shoe cupboard

Dear Delyara, Of course it was there. Between a football boot and a pair of muddy trainers, folded in a way that suggested someone had meant to “put it somewhere safe” and then forgotten the entire concept immediately after. I stood there with the paper in my hand feeling that familiar tiredness of being the person who keeps discovering evidence of other people’s chaos before the consequences arrive. That’s what this phase of life is for me. Prevention. Recovery. Catching. Carrying. Not because anyone is bad. Because I am the one whose eyes land on what would otherwise become tomorrow’s panic. Sometimes I think motherhood is mostly finding things in the wrong places and calling it love.