by Jim Killam | 3-minute read
Lauren and I had a fight Sunday afternoon. I’m not sure either of us could tell you what it was about. We retreated to separate ends of the house for a while to decompress. By Monday, things were fine again.
“Fight” is a relative term for us. We almost never do. In a great marriage, a few words of exasperation can feel bigger than they really are. And that’s what Sunday was: frustration and helplessness in not being able to help our kids with childcare. In having to treat our parents like we are radioactive. In the two of us seeing and feeling needs, with the biggest of those needs being to stay home.
And we’re not even to the bad part of this thing yet. Read More