She stares at him, waits to feel angry, misunderstood. But she feels none of those. Because, the fact is, well, he’s right

T

he thing that no one tells you about having kids, Tammy thinks as she gently closes the bedroom door, is that you sign away your peace of mind. For, like, life.

She heads down the stairs and joins Daniel in the kitchen. His hat is still on; he must’ve just come home.

“Hey,” she says, smiling at him as she whisks his plate into the microwave and pours him a glass of Coke.

“Hey yourself,” he says, settling into a chair.

“What?” she asks self-consciously. She places two bamboo mats on the glass-topped dinette.

“Nothing. It’s just nice to be home.”

“Awww.” She’s gotten used to his open emotionality over the years, but it still sometimes catches her off guard.

She lays out two salad plates from her favorite Golden Rabbit set, and serves spinach leaves with shitake mushrooms.

The microwave beeps. Daniel gets there first.

“Can you sit?”

Tammy giggles. “So, best part of your day?”

Daniel sits down and lifts his fork. “Have I said ‘right now’ yet this week?”

Tammy rolls her eyes. “Yes, last night. You passed your quota for cheesiness.”

“Kay, so mussar seder, for sure. It just felt so alive today. Reb Yechiel was on fire.”

“That’s awesome.” When was the last time she felt she was on fire?

“You?”

“Hmmm.” She mentally scrolls through her day as if it were an orderly Word document. “Bedtime,” she says decisively. “Shmu went to sleep so nicely; I was happy to see that chart trick working. Oh, and Mommy called today.” She changes the topic.

“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“Just wanted to tell me she’s so proud of me. Uh, did you tell your entire family about the new job?”

“Sure did! They’re all ecstatic. We’re officially the coolest Pressers now with you being an ER PA.”

Yeah right; it would take a lot more than that for her to be the coolest in his family. She’s more used to hearing words like “responsible,” “organized,” “perfectionist,” and the occasional “intimidating.”

She pushes away her plate as her stomach does a triple flip. “Uch, I’m nervous.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “You, nervous?”

“Mmm.”

Dessert is homemade ice cream. Her phone rings as Daniel loads the dishwasher.

The rich voice of Naomi, Daniel’s oldest sister, fills the room.

“Any other mother of three who decided to work three twelve-hour shifts, I’d tell her she was stark-raving mad. But you, you got this. How many Excel sheets have you drawn up?” Naomi laughs at her own joke. “You’ll be amazing, Tams. And we’re here if you need us!”

Daniel wiggles his eyebrows. “Excel sheets? You?”

Tammy laughs, but honestly, the answer is seven.