A bit of (art) journaling from me:

My better half walked the dog, mumbled something, shook his head and went to bed, closing the door behind him. I rolled my eyes and sighed. It was almost 10pm and I really didn't want to be there - in the kitchen, pretending to be cleaning the counter and rearranging my spice cabinet while our almost 16-year-old sat there muttering curses at a tricky calculus problem. Our son wasn't doing a great job... but he was doing, and it was a hell of a lot more than just a couple of days ago. So, in a way I was kidding myself, thinking I didn't really want to be there, because I did. My presence was the scaffolding that propped him up and kept him going. I offered help and it was - for the umpteenth time - rejected. Rather rudely too, but I let that slide. For the umpteenth time. That was not the time to talk about manners and respect. I stifled another sigh and briefly contemplated placing salt and pepper mills next to oils and condiments, rather than spices. My son threw the pen on the table and growled in frustration. I reminded myself to be business-like and braced for it. "Are you gonna help me or what?" I nodded. That's why I was there, after all. He didn't really need much, just a nudge in the right direction and he was able to work the rest out, and then we both went to bed. Both thinking life is unfair and we've been lied to. Him because he'd never - ever - need fractions once he's out of school, and me because marriage is never a fifty-fifty thing. Or actually it is, but on a really GRAND scheme of things, because that day it definitely wasn't. Which, I reminded myself as I finished brushing my teeth and got to bed, was fine, because there have been many - MANY - days when my husband had to work late, or attend boring functions that he couldn't get out of while I stayed at home enjoying a good book. We had different talents, and teaching our kids to study is mine. So for the next few weeks my number is up. We are a team and we do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. And we don't keep scores.