Summary: Angela returns to familiar territory with Tony and daily issues of raising the kids following her private admission of love.

What has surprised me most about the past few weeks has been the seamless return to normal behavior. Although the kids had no reason to suspect anything had ever been the least bit out of the ordinary, and despite the resolution of my own feelings, I couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be absolutely no residual effects of Tony's dalliance with Frankie Candino. I guess, in retrospect, I can't help but think that something more should have been said or that more could have happened. What does it mean that barely a ripple was felt even just few hours after that fateful and cryptic conversation in the foyer? And why can I feel the impact of acknowledging that what I feel for Tony is really love and still be able to carry on with him as though no such internal revelation has taken place? What a truly peculiar situation that I can express so much within these pages and yet feel completely at ease and uncompromised when I'm with him. Is that the beauty of our relationship, or the curse? I guess it's just my ability to not focus on my feelings on a daily basis and to accept what I have as more than enough.

Mother, of course, didn't hesitate to ask what transpired in regards to Frankie's proposal and was vocally disappointed when I refused to say much except that Tony said he didn't love her. "Did he happen to say who he does love?" she persisted, and I was honestly able to reply no, though I omitted my own admission in order to dissuade more pushing and prodding into areas I'm not ready to venture outside the confines of a psychiatrist's office. Eventually, she tired of playing twenty questions, but didn't leave without a parting blow about our stubborn silence being a death knell for us. But I know she's wrong.

Maybe it's been the frantic pace around the house that's kept things from becoming too personal between Tony and me. Sam, who's barely a month into high school, was already scoping out college, and Jonathan couldn't decide whether to go forward or backward in school. These events tried both my and Tony's understanding, patience, and confidence as parents. Sam's new friend – Mason – is a sweet but awkward boy, and completely un-Samantha-like. But in that confusing way that is teen-age behavior, they seemed to have forged a unique friendship. I can't say I was proud of her actions toward Mason, but with far more maturity than most fifteen-year-old possess, she fessed up and apologized for her selfish behavior. Sam's modus operendi seems to be teenage-like actions followed by very adult-like reactions, and I'm certain that one day those two factions will balance themselves out in her favor.

As for my little boy, his return to school was no picnic. While he may know more than his share of reading, writing, and arithmetic, his mastery of socializing, tact, and confidence is woefully lacking. He really is his mother's son, and not always in ways that I'm proud to have passed on to him. But after a rocky start, he seems to have settled in a bit at junior high. No doubt next week's frog chopping will solidify his decision to stay in seventh grade. But how can I help him understand that all of this petty competition and popularity is so temporary? Is there any way to make an eleven-year-old see the big picture, to see the promise of life outside junior high school? I know I wasn't able to at his age, and while I don't expect Jonathan to, I'm sure my wish is no more than that of many other parents. It really is times like these that I'm thankful for Tony's influence. He can spot tell-tale signs of trouble in the life of a young boy at speeds I can't imagine ever achieving. Left with only my own detective skills, and Jonathan would no doubt still be losing his lunch to those bullies every day. I just hope my days of visiting the principal for Jonathan are long over. If nothing else, I've learned I'm no more comfortable in that office now than I was at thirteen.

And for just a moment, allow me to indulge in the sweet memories of Christy and Lyle's whirlwind romance. Who'd have thought a simple blind date would oscillate between disaster and fairytale like a hockey puck on the ice? To watch two people overcome their insecurities and find companionship and love in such a short amount of time was just beautiful. And simultaneously, Tony and I got to take stock of everything we have together, not the least of which is a familiarity that I've never felt with another human being. While we may not be ready – after more than three years – to take steps Christy and Lyle took in one night, we took the time to remember all the ways in which we are there for each other and to at least acknowledge to one anther that "alone is bad, together is good." No truer words have ever been spoken.