Tyler and I have not seen eye to eye in a number of days. He is in a screaming fit upstairs, slamming doors, throwing things, and experimenting with his irate self.
I’m longing for my parenting partner, the one to whom I could pass the baton, share the conversations, discuss the consequences, and find a reminder that I’m officially an adult, even when I’m surrounded by such harrowing nonsense.
Discipline is more lonely than the absence of date nights.
Tucker leans over to me on the couch. He whispers, “Mommy, do you always win?”
In battles like this one, yes. I have to.