“Have you thought about going back to work?”
I tucked a rogue strand of hair back into my messy ponytail as a tear slipped down my cheek. Those words felt like a stab to my already fragile heart. My husband, Mark, who I’d been married to for seven years, continued cautiously, “You just seem a little…unhappy.”
He was walking on eggshells, trying to address a problem I hadn’t even brought up. I was overwhelmed navigating my new life as a mom of two, and the pressure was mounting. My days revolved around two primary activities: nursing a baby and potty training a toddler. One was perpetually hungry, while the other faced a battle with constipation. I’m talking about a constant cycle from 9 a.m. to 3:38 p.m., where I’d often find myself in the bathroom coaxing one child on the potty while the other was latched on. Add to that a mountain of laundry and dishes, and the sounds of two kids crying, and I was feeling completely trapped in my own life.
Every evening, Mark returned home to an all-too-familiar scene: our two-and-a-half-year-old sprawled on the floor with stomach pains, our 4-month-old wailing, and me teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
It became a ritual – Mark would walk through the door at 6:02 p.m., and I’d immediately hand him both kids along with a laundry list of complaints before retreating to the bathroom for a few precious moments of solitude.
Each night, my noble husband took over childcare as I vented about the exhausting day. I wanted him to feel the weight of my struggles, to understand my fatigue, my feelings of hopelessness by 5 p.m. I turned into the world’s biggest complainant, with our kids at the forefront of my daily rants. I transformed into a person I didn’t even recognize – the whiner, the victim. I wanted to stop, but the complaints just spilled out like word vomit.
It’s no wonder Mark eventually wondered aloud if I’d be happier returning to a full-time job. I can’t deny I’d had those thoughts myself. His question was telling, though, making me realize the issue in our house wasn’t the kids; it was my mindset. It was my skewed view of our daily life, which had somehow shifted to 90% negativity and only 10% positivity.
Once upon a time, in what feels like a different life, Mark and I both worked full-time jobs. We shared the same stresses of deadlines, the annoyance of conference calls, and the satisfaction of earning a paycheck. Our evenings were filled with leisurely dinners where we exchanged stories from our days. In short, we were very much in sync.
Fast forward to now: Mark is still working full-time, while I’ve transitioned to part-time work from home with two little ones underfoot. Since becoming a work-at-home mom, I’ve felt an overwhelming urge to make Mark truly understand the challenges of caring for our children. I’ve fixated on painting a vivid picture of my daily life, as if he needed to grasp the emotional and physical toll of motherhood to appreciate it fully.
From the start, I felt he couldn’t comprehend every wave of nausea, every labor pain, and the exhausting aftermath that came with childbirth. We were in this together, but I felt like I bore the brunt of the responsibility. I needed him to acknowledge my struggle.
I still remember one of the first times I left Mark alone with the kids for a morning. When I returned, it was utter chaos: toys everywhere, spilled yogurt on the floor, and was that Elmo dangling from the ceiling fan? Mark’s expression said it all, but he topped it off with nine magical words: “I don’t know how you do this every day.”
The moment he said it, I swear I heard angels singing. Sunbeams seemed to break through the windows, and I promptly kissed him. “That is the best thing you could ever say to me,” I beamed, my heart swelling.
I became addicted to that validation, that affirmation that caring for two kids was tough for both of us. I wanted that phrase tattooed on his forehead and blasted across our garage door. He could say it multiple times a day, and I’d never tire of hearing it.
However, everything came to a head that night when Mark innocently asked if I might be happier working full-time again. Of course, he asked; he’s a fixer by nature, and judging by my daily complaints, he sensed my unhappiness.
But was I truly unhappy? Sure, I had my moments, but overall, this was my dream come true. I often tell others how lucky I am to be home, watching my kids grow while pursuing creative endeavors and contributing to our family financially. Sure, finding balance is tricky, and some days are downright awful, but when I reflect, I know there’s no place I’d rather be – Cheerios and all.
In my quest to be understood and appreciated, I realized I had painted a grim picture of our days, overlooking half the story. Mark only knew what I communicated, and my nightly updates revolved around the chaos rather than the joy.
For every meltdown at the post office, there’s a spontaneous dance party in the kitchen. For every screaming car ride, there’s an eruption of giggles during a diaper change. What if I flipped the narrative and focused more on the positives? How would that shift affect our evenings and my relationships with my kids and husband?
So, I’m committing to a mid-year resolution: trading my red pen for gold stars. Each day, I’ll find three positive moments to share with Mark, whether it’s the kids playing peek-a-boo or their adorable shampoo mohawks. I want to highlight what made us smile and let go of the negativity.
I’ll save the “I’m overwhelmed” days for when they truly warrant it (like when there’s an explosion in the car seat), and on those tough days, I’ll simply use our code phrase: “Wanna grab Chipotle for dinner?”
That phrase says it all without needing to spill every detail of the chaos. It means at 6:02 p.m., he’ll walk in with burrito bowls, and with a smile, he’ll say, “I can’t believe you handle this every day.”
This article was originally published on Aug. 11, 2023.
Summary
In this candid reflection, Emma Johnson explores the challenges and joys of motherhood, revealing how a focus on negativity can overshadow the beautiful moments. With a commitment to shift her perspective, she aims to share more positivity with her husband, creating a healthier dynamic at home.