Resentment Check

A month or two into parenthood,
Through the fog of the early days and weeks,
We began to settle into new patterns,
Ashley and I,
New divisions of labor.


One evening, with James asleep,
Over dinner, she caught
A certain edge in my tone.


"Maybe it's time for a resentment check,
She suggested."
Feigning ignorance
Of the attitude I was exuding,
"A what," I asked?


"Just curious if you feel any resentment creeping in."


And this question appeared
In the context of
Her maternity leave,
She is doing everything with James.
Exhausted all the time.
And still,
I come home from work,
To a fully made dinner,
A walked dog,
A house that is not a disaster area.


So, I say,
"Of course not."
And recount all these things,
For which I am, of course,
Amazed and grateful,
Plus the multiple late night feedings.
Some of which,
Not yet adjusted to wake at his cry,
I sleep right through,
Or wake when she taps me on the shoulder,
Then I grunt,
Roll over,
And fall back to sleep.


"How could I possibly resent you?"

I say.

But she is savvy enough
To let silence hang.

And a moment later,
I start unleashing
All the resentment that has,
In fact,
Been brewing.


A year later,
I can't even remember what at its source.
Maybe the trash,
The dog,
The 19-mile bike commute,
The cleaning,
The some other errand,
Or task,
For which I had not been duly thanked,
Or recognized.


In the end,
The what
Could not have mattered less.


Saying it out loud
Let the air out of the balloon
Before it burst.


And it created the opening
For us both to speak aloud our gratitude
For all the other was doing.
To recognize together
The inescapable reality
Life had gotten fuller
And harder for both of us.


We readjusted roles and responsibilities
A little.

We realigned
A lot.