Last night, you left your socks and underwear on the kitchen counter. This morning, as I reached for a cereal box for our eldest, Rice Krispies scattered everywhere because someone hadn’t sealed it properly. Just as we were about to leave for school, our youngest opened his water bottle and was completely soaked with seltzer. I can’t help but wonder who filled it with seltzer despite my repeated requests not to.
And really, how does it take you a full half hour to use the bathroom? I’ve timed it! Sometimes, I worry you might have a serious condition, but then I realize you’re just trying to steal a moment of peace while our kids scream outside the door. I wish I could take 30 minutes for myself too; I can’t remember the last time I had privacy in the bathroom, let alone that much time.
Dear spouse, my list of grievances could stretch on indefinitely—and often does, in my mind. Occasionally, my frustrations spill out: “How many times do I have to remind you to take out the trash?” and “Please, for the love of everything, clean up the crumbs on the counter.” But then, I glance at you on the couch, our son snuggled in your lap as you read Green Eggs and Ham for the umpteenth time.
You look utterly worn out. You left at 5 a.m., sneaking out while the kids and I were still asleep. You made the early train and trudged through your day, surrounded by 15-year-olds who roll their eyes at you just like our son. Yet, amid the eye-rolling, you connect with a few kids who share their dreams, grasp a line from Shakespeare, and enjoy your silly jokes.
When you return home, I practically throw the kids at you and demand you take out the trash. Yet here you are, reading to our son, making funny animal sounds despite your exhaustion. Sometimes it’s hard to hold onto that resentment when I see how hard you work.
It’s true: you leave your things scattered around and forget what I ask you to do, but you’re making an effort. Just yesterday, after my jog, I came home to find the house surprisingly tidy—I hadn’t even asked you to clean.
And yes, there are moments when your patience wears thin, and you raise your voice at the kids when their noise reaches unbearable levels. But sometimes I notice you take a breath before reacting. I see you pause, trying to avoid another argument with them.
I wish you would put in even more effort. Your job is demanding, but mine is too. You’re out the door by 5 a.m., while I’m up at 6:30, coaxing two spirited boys to get dressed and out the door by 8. Then I’m responsible for them for 12 hours, along with managing our home, my freelance work, the bills, and everything else that comes with parenting.
Yet, this isn’t a competition. Life is challenging, marriage is complicated, and parenting can be overwhelming. Navigating it all and coming out intact is no small achievement.
In truth, there’s no one else I’d rather share this beautiful, exhausting life with than you. You’re the person I married and fell in love with long before our lives became filled with responsibilities.
At the end of our long days, we have a brief hour together before collapsing into bed, usually sitting on the couch, munching on snacks, and scrolling through our phones. We’re often too tired to speak, but occasionally I’ll catch your gaze, and an old wave of love washes over me. You look back at me, that familiar sparkle in your blue eyes reminding me that despite our imperfections, we’re okay. Our marriage is okay. We are happy. We are flawed. And love will guide us through.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Emma Johnson explores the imperfections of marriage and parenting. She shares relatable anecdotes about daily frustrations, yet emphasizes the enduring love she holds for her spouse, underscoring that despite life’s challenges, they are committed to navigating it together.