I Saved the Last Strawberries for Tomorrow and Resented Everybody for It

Dear Delyara, I was rinsing them at the sink when my daughter asked for some, then my son, then my husband reached past me and took one without even asking because family life makes that kind of reaching seem harmless. I smiled and said, “Let’s save the rest for lunches tomorrow.” What I meant was: if I let all of you have what you want every time you want it, there will be nothing left for tomorrow, and somehow I will still be the one expected to solve that gracefully. It’s ridiculous how much resentment can fit inside four strawberries. Still, it was there. I packed them into two tiny containers for the lunchboxes and went to bed feeling ashamed that fruit had made me feel like a martyr. That’s the kind of honesty nobody wants from mothers. Too bad.