The Joke

A rainy Tuesday, almost seven and already dark.

I walked through the door on a Tuesday, late again. My son ran up to me the way he always did, full speed, arms out.

“Mommy! Do you want to hear a joke? Or are you feeling overwhelmed?” He put his hands on my face as he tried to read me. He was three.

I don’t remember what the joke was. I remember standing in the doorway, coat still on, bag still on my shoulder, realizing that my three-year-old son was trying to protect me from a joke.

Somewhere along the way, I had made “overwhelmed” my default setting, and he had adjusted to it. He was doing something generous.

I said, “Tell me the joke.”

He did. I laughed. I don’t think it was very funny, but I remember it was exactly what I needed.

That night, after he went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the question my son asked.

I had been telling myself a story. That the pace was temporary. That the stress was just what this new job required. That I was handling it. But I wasn’t.

The hardest things to see are the ones your family has already adjusted to.

They don’t complain. They adapt. They learn to check your face before they speak. And if you’re not paying attention, you’ll mistake their adjustment for everything being fine.

I decided I needed to make a change. I would update my resume and start looking for a place that was a better fit for me and my family.

What have the people closest to you quietly stopped expecting from you?

Not your team at work. The ones who know you well enough to gauge your mood before they say good morning.

You might get a moment as clear as the one my son gave me. You might not. So take a look now, while no one is asking.

Where do good and evil lie? In choice. Where do gain and loss lie? In choice. — Epictetus