Last night, I discovered a pair of socks and some underwear left on the kitchen counter. This morning, I reached for the cereal and found Rice Krispies scattered all over the floor because someone didn’t seal the box properly after using it. As we were about to head out for school, my younger child opened his water bottle, only to be covered in seltzer. I can’t help but wonder who filled it with the fizzy drink, despite my constant reminders.
And then there’s the bathroom situation. My husband seems to take an eternity in there. I’ve actually timed it—up to thirty minutes! Sometimes I worry he might have a serious health issue, but then I remember that he’s probably just trying to escape the chaos, phone in hand, while the kids are demanding attention. Meanwhile, I haven’t had a moment of solitude in ages.
Dear Jason, I could go on listing my grievances, and often do in my mind. Sometimes the frustration spills over: “How many times do I have to ask you to take out the trash?” or “Please, for the love of all things sacred, wipe those crumbs off the counter!”
But then, I catch a glimpse of you on the couch, our son nestled in your lap, as you read Green Eggs and Ham—again. Your eyelids are heavy, and I know you’ve had a long day. Up since 5 a.m., you slipped out while we were still asleep, took the train, and spent your day navigating a room full of teenagers who roll their eyes at you just like our son does sometimes. Yet, in those moments, you connect with a few kids who are eager to share their thoughts or understand a line from Shakespeare.
When you return home, I throw a couple of rowdy kids at you and ask you to take out the trash. Yet here you are, making animal sounds for our son, despite your exhaustion. It’s hard to stay mad at you when I see how much you give.
The truth is, you do try. Yes, you leave things lying around and forget the little tasks, but you’re making an effort. Just yesterday, I went for a jog and returned to find the house surprisingly tidy—without me even asking you to clean up.
I know you have your moments of frustration too, sometimes raising your voice when the kids are pushing every button. But I also see you take deep breaths, pausing before reacting. I wish you would push harder sometimes; I know your job is demanding, but mine is too. You leave for work early, while I’m up at 6:30, coaxing our two spirited boys to get dressed and ready by 8 a.m. Then it’s just me for the next 12 hours—not just with the kids, but also managing the household, my freelance work, bills, and homework.
But this is not about competition or whose job is tougher. Life is challenging. Marriage is challenging. Raising children is challenging. Balancing it all is a monumental task, and yet, I wouldn’t want to navigate this beautiful chaos with anyone else but you.
You are the man I chose, the one I fell in love with long before our lives became so complicated. At the end of our exhausting days, we share that precious hour on the couch, often too tired to talk, lost in our devices. Yet sometimes, I look at you and feel a rush of that old love. You meet my gaze, that familiar twinkle in your blue eyes reminding me that despite the messiness, we are okay. Our marriage is okay. We are happy, imperfect, and love will guide us through.
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In summary, while my marriage is far from perfect, the love we share remains constant, helping us face the challenges of life together.