I packed the PE kit at 10 p.m.

Dear Delyara, My son remembered late, of course. One trainer missing, one shirt still damp, water bottle nowhere near clean. By the time I’d gathered everything and zipped the bag, I could feel myself sliding toward that edge where resentment isn’t dramatic enough to confess but sharp enough to be real. I don’t resent my children for needing me. I resent how late some needs arrive. I resent that the final catch net in this house is still usually me. Then, because motherhood is rude like that, I looked at the packed kit by the door and felt proud as well. The whole emotional contradicti