When Susie asked her teacher if Mommy could come to “Donuts with Dad,” it wasn’t meant to be a protest. Just a fact, spoken by a child who didn’t know her words would split something wide open. “She does all the dad stuff,” she said. And in that moment, years of silent exhaustion finally echoed.
I’d been holding our family together with invisible threads—doctor’s appointments, school projects, soccer snacks, birthday RSVPs—while Ryan worked late and said, “Just remind me.” I never wanted applause. I wanted a teammate. And for someone, just once, to notice how tired I was.
