A Rough Start
December 29, 2025 started on a bad note.
This morning opened with an argument—one that lingered longer than it needed to. My mother was upset about Eve staying the night, and the conversation carried more volume than discretion. Eve could hear it, which added a layer of embarrassment to an already uncomfortable situation.
Later, my mother tried to soften things by saying she would complain less if I promised not to move Eve in. I understand where that fear comes from. I have a history of moving too fast in past relationships, and she worries I'll repeat it.
I assured her that moving Eve in has never been a thought. Not even close. I know my limits. I know how much energy parenting already requires. Handling my kids and her kids full-time, without breaks, would be more than I could manage.
That boundary felt important to state—out loud, and clearly.
Finding Space Anyway
Despite the rocky start, Eve and I managed to find a little quiet time together in the morning. Nothing elaborate. Just closeness. Isabella was in the living room on her phone, and the house felt momentarily calm.
Small pockets like that matter more than they probably should.
We didn't have Eve's kids with us this time, which made the day feel lighter—less juggling, fewer moving parts.
Time to Fill, Choices to Make
We had an upcoming doctor's appointment scheduled for Eve's youngest because of a persistent cough. That left us with time to fill, so we picked up the kids and figured out what to do in the meantime.
I briefly considered taking everyone to Elev8 in Sanford. It would've been fun—but it also would've stretched money I really didn't have. On the way, we passed the Sanford Zoo and decided to stop there instead.
After seeing how much prices had gone up, that plan changed too.
So we pivoted again and went to Cici's Pizza.
Not glamorous—but it worked.
Back-and-Forth Kind of Day
After lunch, we still had about an hour and a half before the appointment. We went back to my house for a bit, then headed out again.
The appointment confirmed what I'd suspected—the cough was bronchitis. Not the news you want, but at least it came with clarity and a plan.
We stopped by Eve's place to pass time while prescriptions were being prepared, then went together to pick them up.
A Small Surprise
While we were out, I did something quietly impulsive. I picked up a bouquet of roses for Eve—nothing announced, nothing planned.
When we got back to her house, I surprised her with them.
It felt good to give something without expectation. Just because I wanted to.
Ending the Day With Intention
Afterward, it was just Isabella and me back at home. I started watching Stranger Things, easing into the evening.
Eve mentioned concerns about her mom's birthday the next day. Her husband would be heading back to work and wouldn't be there, and she was worried the day would feel empty.
I told her I'd try to help make it memorable.
So I did.
I spent nearly six hours creating a birthday video filled with family photos—slow, careful work that took more out of me than I expected. By the time I finished, it was late.
Too late to do anything else.
Letting the Day Close
I went to bed tired—not just physically, but in that quiet way that comes after giving more than you planned to.
Today had arguments.
It had care.
It had pivots, patience, and small moments of choosing kindness anyway.
Not every day starts well.
But some still end with effort you can stand behind.
And tonight, that's enough.