I arrived home from work at 6 PM, utterly drained. All I wanted was to unwind in a hot bath and clear my cluttered mind. As soon as I stepped through the door, my partner, Sarah, began to express her frustrations. She shared tales of our 7-year-old, Leo, who didn’t help with dinner prep or begin his homework. Then there was Ellie, our 4-month-old, who had made a mess of her diaper not once, but twice that day, and refused to take a nap. To top it off, our 5-year-old, Mia, had spent the day throwing tantrums.
This incident occurred about two years ago when Sarah was a stay-at-home mom and a part-time student. Dressed in comfy blue jeans and a striped T-shirt, her hair pulled back, she was multitasking in the kitchen, with crying Ellie in her arms, clad in just a diaper. The house was a whirlwind of toys and laundry waiting to be folded. The exhaustion was evident in her eyes, her lack of makeup, and her slumped posture.
She had certainly endured a long day, but so had I.
At the time, I worked at a university as an academic advisor for under-represented students. A friend once called my position the “social work of higher education,” which felt accurate. Just the night before, one of my students had been arrested and was facing felony charges, so I’d spent a significant amount of time trying to navigate the university’s legal support to help him.
While I didn’t experience physical fatigue like my father might have after a day of manual labor, I felt an emotional weight—an ache behind my eyes and tightness in my stomach.
Moments after entering, Sarah handed me the fussy baby, as if she were passing off a ticking time bomb. “Take her,” she said, clearly exasperated. “She’s driving me nuts. And can you please get Leo and Mia to clean up the table and start their homework? Dinner is almost ready, and I’m about to lose it. After dinner, I need a break.”
The last thing on my mind was to rally the kids for chores and homework. All I craved was a moment of peace in the tub, and Sarah, understandably, just wanted to hand off the kids for a little respite.
“Just a sec,” I replied, needing to drop my bag first. “I’ve had a long day too.”
Before I could elaborate, Sarah interrupted with a scoff, “You think you’ve had a long day? You got to leave the house! You didn’t deal with kids acting like wild animals or clean up baby poop!”
“No, I didn’t,” I replied, wanting to explain the stress of my day, but she was quick to retort, “I didn’t even get a lunch break!”
As we volleyed back and forth, each trying to prove our day was worse, it became evident that we were both overwhelmed and deserving of a break. Yet, only one of us could take it at a time.
Neither of us had done anything wrong. We had both fulfilled our responsibilities and put in hard work that day, but young children have a relentless demand for attention and care.
In parenting, it often feels like the universe is off balance. You yearn for downtime, yet it never seems to be available. And while you can’t fault your innocent kids for demanding your attention, frustration can easily turn toward your partner. They should understand your exhaustion and how difficult the day was, right?
We both craved that moment of peace, knowing we had earned it, but neither was willing to yield to the other.
So, I did what can sometimes be the hardest choice to make. I took a deep breath and embraced my role as a father, like donning a winter coat on a summer day. I set my bag down, calmed Ellie, and got Leo and Mia to tidy up and start their homework, allowing Sarah to finish dinner. Once we all gathered at the table for a family meal, a sense of calm settled over us, and we agreed to split the evening chores. After dinner, I was free to soak in the tub while Sarah took over bedtime duties.
If I hadn’t paused and gathered my thoughts, we might have missed that moment of compromise. Sometimes, it’s Sarah who takes the breath, and on other occasions, we might not find that moment of peace, leading to arguments that stretch into the night.
Ultimately, taking that breath is a challenge of parenthood. It’s about allowing the moment to settle, discussing the need for breaks, and recognizing that parenting can inadvertently strain your partnership. Your priorities shift, and the person you once leaned on can seem like an adversary in the quest for a moment of sanity, which becomes more precious than you ever anticipated before becoming a parent. It’s not that you resent each other—rather, it’s the intricate fallout from working as a team to nurture and support your kids.
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In summary, the pressures of parenting can strain a marriage, often leading to misunderstandings and competition for breaks. By recognizing the challenges each partner faces and learning to support one another, couples can navigate the complexities of parenthood together.