BalancingAct

“Is it going to be just you and me again tonight, Mom?”

My 10-year-old son, Nathan, watched me set a pan of lasagna on our kitchen table—a pan big enough to feed our family of seven.

“Yep, you and me, buddy,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

It was 7 p.m. Nathan’s siblings, all teenagers or older, were either working or out with friends.

My husband, Eric, was still at the office. As usual.

“Is Dad ever going to eat with us?” Nathan asked.

“Sure,” I said, forcing myself to sound upbeat.

I felt the opposite. I was way beyond disappointed. It was all I could do to conceal my anger about Eric’s long work hours.

I got it that Nathan’s