A Morning That Felt Heavy
December 27 , 2025 started the way many days do lately—with cleaning. Nothing unusual there. I made breakfast for the kids: bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, and toast. A solid, filling start to the day.
To my surprise, Isabella asked for a second helping of eggs. I'm not sure if it was genuine hunger or the questionable influence of ketchup on eggs—which I will never fully understand—but I'll take the win.
The kids played. They laughed. They made a mess. All very on-brand.
Plans Change (Again)
We had planned to go to Lyonia Preserve in Deltona. Fresh air. Trails. Something grounding.
Instead, plans shifted—again. Eve's mom needed help with an errand, and just like that, the day took a different shape. By the time we were done, I was running on fumes. The kind of tired where your body feels heavy and your thoughts start moving slower than usual.
We went back to my place and laid down. We were in bed for about an hour and a half. I might've gotten fifteen minutes of sleep—if that.
The Tension That Follows Rest
I tried to keep the kids in my room while I rested. Predictably, that didn't last. They wandered. Escaped. And what followed was a familiar frustration—the assumption that I always leave the kids unsupervised.
The narrative stings, especially when it ignores how much effort I put in every single day.
I had planned another sleepover, despite my mother's objections. That disagreement turned into an argument, and rather than escalate it further, Eve and I did what we often do when tension builds—we cleaned.
Cleaning as Proof
And we cleaned hard.
I spent two hours nonstop cleaning, then continued throughout the evening. Yard work. Mowing the lawn. Starting a full pantry reorganization. At one point, I genuinely wondered how that much stuff ever fit in there.
We emptied the pantry completely. Everything came out. The kitchen table and island were completely covered. Slowly, intentionally, we put it all back—organized, sorted, and finally manageable.
It was exhausting.
And also satisfying.
Sometimes effort is the only language that calms a room.
A Quieter Night
The night unfolded more peacefully than usual. The girls were mostly well-behaved. Isabella fell asleep early, which made it easier for everyone else to settle down.
We spent the evening watching The Lion King movies—something comforting and familiar. For dinner, we kept it simple: pizza and taquitos. Nothing fancy. Just enough.
As the house finally quieted, Eve and I found ourselves with a little space to breathe. Some quiet time together. No plans. No fixing. Just being still after a long, heavy day.
What Today Taught Me
Today reminded me how often plans change—and how much energy it takes to adapt without resentment. It reminded me that rest doesn't always come easily, and that sometimes peace arrives only after effort has been spent.
I carried a lot today.
I showed up anyway.
And tonight, quiet feels earned.