“There is no fix.”
That is what I told him after our last argument.
This is not a fixable issue.
This is just the way it is.
Him, working home full time surrounded by me and our four young daughters.
Me, overwhelmed with the rearing and education of our daughters on top of the insurmountable housework.
Our fuses are short. Lit quickly by the tiniest flame.
And right now? During a pandemic with stay-at-home orders? There’s no out.
No, there’s no way to fix that.
But we can talk.
We can argue and let. it. out.
“Keep talking.” I told him. “And I will, too.”
No, we can’t fix it. But we can talk.
And that’s our release.