My hands shook with rage as I stood in the doorway of a house that used to be clean and organised. Before I left for work, I had done everything I could to make life as easy as possible for my husband and children. I cooked dinners for the whole week ahead, did all the laundry, and even laid out the kids’ outfits by day to make sure everything ran smoothly.
And then, a week later, the chaos appeared in front of me. Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink, random toys and clothes were strewn across every surface, and my once cosy bed was buried under a mountain of laundry. The fridge was empty, save for a few uneaten leftovers, and the bin was overflowing.
My first thought was to cry. My second thought was to turn around and get back on the plane. But instead, I dragged my suitcase inside and began assessing the damage, rage bubbling in the back of my mind.
When my husband walked through the door later, he looked relieved. “Oh, thank God you’re back! I’ve been starving. You didn’t make enough food for a week,” he said, completely oblivious to the mess around him.
I stared at him dumbfounded. ‘I didn’t make enough food?’ I repeated, my voice shaking. “You mean you couldn’t figure out how to cook a meal or order takeaway while I was away? What about the house? What kind of disaster is that?”
He shrugged. “It’s been a busy week. The kids had classes and I didn’t have time to clean. You know how it is.”
The audacity of his words was like a slap in the face. “Busy? I left you a detailed schedule. I’ve prepared everything. And still you couldn’t do the minimum? What’s my fault here?”
‘Well,’ he said, scratching his head, “you know how to handle all this stuff better than I do. It’s kind of your thing.”
That was it. Something inside me clicked. ‘Oh, that’s my thing?’ I said, raising my voice. ‘Well, guess what, it’s your thing now.’
The next morning I packed a small bag and left a note on the fridge:
“Going away for the weekend. Your turn to take care of the house and kids. Good luck.”
I switched off my phone and drove to a nearby spa resort where I spent the weekend sleeping, reading and enjoying a warm cooked meal that I didn’t have to prepare myself.
Sunday night I returned home to an agitated husband and two children who looked like they had survived a natural disaster. The house was still messy, but I had already figured out what was up.
My husband approached me with an apologetic look on his face. “I… I didn’t realise how much you do. I thought it was easy because you make it look so easy. I’m sorry.”
I crossed my arms. “It’s not easy. It’s hard work, and I deserve more respect and support. If we want to continue living as a family, things have to change. We’re partners, not boss and subordinate.”
From that day on, we implemented a new system. My husband started cooking and cleaning on certain days, and the kids got age-appropriate chores. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.
Sometimes the best lessons can be learned by stepping back and allowing others to step forward. And for me, recognising my worth was not only empowering – it was necessary.
