My friends often describe my husband as the ideal partner. And honestly, I can’t disagree with them on that point.
“Claire’s husband is the kind of guy who unloads the dishwasher without being asked,” my closest friend once praised him. It’s true; he handles the dishwasher all on his own, loading and unloading it daily without a hint of complaint. He takes out the recycling and garbage, including the diaper pail in our little one’s nursery, bravely enduring its unpleasant smell. Occasionally, while I’m engrossed in a show, I hear the soothing hum of the vacuum cleaner in the next room. He cleans the fridge at the first sign of mold and manages grocery shopping and cooking delicious meals.
If he were a fitness enthusiast, he’d fit right into a magazine series featuring attractive, muscular men—often shirtless—doing household chores, with captions like, “Once I finish the laundry, I’ll take care of grocery shopping and bring the kids along so you can unwind.” Unlike many wives I know, I never have to remind my husband to tackle household tasks. He simply takes care of them.
So, I should feel like the luckiest woman alive, right? The reality, however, is that sometimes living with this domestic angel makes me feel like I’m falling short.
Deep down, I think I should embody the “housewife” role. To clarify, my vision of a good mother aligns with the archetype of an overwhelmed housewife. I’ve read countless accounts of how mothers still shoulder the bulk of household responsibilities, even when both partners work full-time. Given that both my husband and I are employed, am I getting off too easy? I contribute in ways that don’t involve scrubbing or sautéing, yet I still feel guilty.
Growing up, I was never particularly tidy, and cleaning was not a skill I learned at home. My father hoarded various items and would become upset when housekeepers rearranged his belongings, leading to a consistently cluttered home. My mother prioritized her career as a painter and other intellectual pursuits over household management (though she did care for me and my brother part-time throughout our childhood). Consequently, piles of dirty laundry often filled the laundry room.
In contrast, my husband’s family rarely ordered takeout and didn’t employ a housekeeper. My mother-in-law never left dirty dishes in the sink, unlike my own mother, who did so frequently.
Six years ago, I penned a heartfelt tribute to my mother for The Christian Science Monitor, commending her for carving out time for her passions, even if it meant neglecting certain household tasks. I considered her approach a form of feminist expression—not showcasing how to be the perfect housewife.
A recent cover story in New York titled “The Feminist Housewife” referenced a survey from the Families and Work Institute revealing that while women despise housework and yearn for more leisure time, when they are granted that free time, they still clean. “Psychologists suggest that perhaps American women are heirs and slaves to some atavistic need to prove their worth through domestic perfectionism,” wrote the reporter, Lisa Miller.
After my daughter arrived, I found myself resonating with those women who feel guilty for not doing enough cooking or cleaning, despite my admiration for my mother’s unconventional choices. I work as a freelance journalist while also caring for my daughter part-time. My husband shares this dual role, and we excel at dividing childcare responsibilities. However, when my daughter was a newborn and I took a break from work, I became obsessively clean during her nap times and late at night. I tried to cook more frequently and boasted to new mom friends about the laundry I accomplished.
During that time, my identity as a writer seemed to fade away. I hardly allowed myself a moment to read or jot down thoughts in my journal. This led me to overlook my own essential contributions to our household. From my home office, I handle our finances, sort through mail, and manage bills. I’m responsible for securing our health insurance (since both my husband and I are self-employed), which is a daunting task that takes hours of research. I also take care of our taxes. I’m the one who researches travel, childcare, and various other topics. Between our wedding and welcoming our baby, I’ve penned over 125 thank-you notes (I’m a firm believer in Emily Post’s etiquette). These are significant responsibilities that my husband doesn’t excel at.
There are also household chores I’m in charge of, like laundry. I do grocery shopping and cook a few nights each week. Yet, I often fall behind on folding burp cloths and onesies, and I’m generally the one who suggests ordering takeout.
The majority of my contributions aren’t visibly obvious. They don’t involve scrubbing the fridge or hauling trash bags down multiple flights of stairs. Even though my husband consistently thanks me for what I do, I know he sometimes feels frustrated by the physically demanding work he tackles. He has joked with my brother about being the “custodian” of our family—a fancy term for janitor.
My therapist advised me to embrace my “21st-century marriage,” which means acknowledging that my husband takes on more cooking and cleaning while I handle traditionally male-associated tasks. She reminded me, “As a new mom, you have a specific idea of what defines a ‘good mother.’”
I need to redefine “good mother” on my own terms, just like my mother did. For me, this means dedicating time to my writing; I want my daughter to feel proud of her mother’s professional and creative endeavors. I’ve begun using my daughter’s nap times for writing and finding other, less precious moments for laundry.
To accept my modern marriage and approach to motherhood, I must stop apologizing for being a less-than-stellar laundress or an inconsistent cook. I need to truly appreciate my husband’s gratitude for ensuring timely tax payments. I must remind myself of the unseen ways I contribute.
My new mantra is, “This family wouldn’t run without you. You are essential.”
Sure, my husband may occasionally resent that his work is more physically demanding while mine is desk-based. But is any marriage free from resentment? (Hopefully, not excessively.) I tend to be a perfectionist, but perfection doesn’t exist in motherhood or marriage.
So what if my husband takes on more of the “housewife” or “house-husband” roles? But wait—both terms are quite outdated. Why must we label marital roles with a household prefix? Both my husband and I contribute to our home in our unique ways—ways that need not be defined by gender.
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In summary, my journey in navigating modern marriage and motherhood has taught me to embrace our differing roles, appreciate my contributions, and redefine what it means to be a good mother and partner.