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My husband has a blog, a little corner
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of the internet, where he chronicles his
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life as a stay-at-home dad. He posts
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about the joys of raising our kids and
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the ease of managing the household.
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It's the easiest job in the world, he
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writes. Women just complain and are full
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of it. His words, a casual dismissal of
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the struggles of millions always graded
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on me. I grew up in a household where my
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father was the fun dad who did the bare
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minimum while my mother shouldered the
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entire burden of running our home. I
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swore I would never let that happen in
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my marriage. A home I believe is a
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partnership and when both people
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contribute the stress lessons, his
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comments, his arrogant certainty that
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his experience was universal infuriated
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me. The final straw came when my friend
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Ashley came to visit. She's a mother of
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two with a son who likely has ADHD and a
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husband who refuses to help. Her
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exhaustion is a permanent fixture on her
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face. When her son accidentally broke a
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cup in our house, she was mortified. "My
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husband, ever the smug stay-at-home dad,
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cleaned it up, but instead of being
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supportive, he scoffed." "You must be
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doing the parent thing wrong," he said
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to her, a woman teetering on the edge of
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a breakdown. It's so easy. My wife
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barely does anything around the house.
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Maybe I should give you a lesson or two.
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I saw the hurt in Ashley's eyes and my
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That evening, I confronted him, telling
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him his words were rude and insensitive.
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He acted as if he had done nothing
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wrong, as if his honesty justified his
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I pointed out the obvious. He doesn't do
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all the chores. I help with at least 40%
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of the housework. that's why he thinks
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He just scoffed, arguing that my chores
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I told him we were lucky our children
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were easy and most aren't. He laughed.
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How hard could it be? Our argument
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escalated. He told me I was ungrateful,
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that no man would ever sacrifice like he
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did. His words felt like a slap in the
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face. I was tired of his arrogance, of
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his casual dismissal of my work and the
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work of countless other women. So, I
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decided to teach him a lesson. I told
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him my contribution to the housework was
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Since you think my chores are
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insignificant, I said, I'll stop doing
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them. Since you think being a
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stay-at-home dad is easy, I'm going to
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give you the full experience.
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He was shocked, angry. He tried to pull
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the incompetence card, arguing that I
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couldn't do this to him, that I was
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being cruel, but I was done arguing. I
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told him I worked all day at the office
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so we could survive on one income, and
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it was selfish of him to expect me to do
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housework. I held firm. The next
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morning, I didn't wake up to make
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breakfast. He had to do it himself, and
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I could tell from his mood that it
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wasn't a pleasant experience.
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I also asked him to pack my lunch, a
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task I had always done. He initially
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refused, but I reminded him that as the
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sole household caretaker, that was now
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I got a peanut butter and jelly
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sandwich, but it was a start. When I
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came home from work, I didn't make
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dinner. I asked him to. He was shocked,
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but did it anyway. I didn't bath our
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fussy son. He had to deal with the
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tantrum himself. I only helped our
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daughter with her homework. I didn't do
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any laundry. For the first few days, he
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didn't say a word, but after a week, the
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cracks began to show. He was exhausted.
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He started getting angry at small
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things, and cleaning, once his
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sanctuary, became a source of rage.
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I spent the weekends at my mother's
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house, giving myself a much needed break
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while he, the self-proclaimed master of
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housework, cleaned our bathrooms all by
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The distance between us grew with each
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The intimacy in our relationship, once a
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source of comfort, was gone.
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Finally, after two weeks of this silent
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protest, he yelled, "You've proved your
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point." Things were back to normal, but
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the distance remained. I asked him to
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talk to me, to tell me what was wrong.
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He said he knew what game I was playing
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and didn't appreciate me treating him
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like garbage. He felt underappreciated,
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invisible, and he had started to hate me
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for not caring. I reminded him that it
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was his words that being a stay-at-home
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parent was easy, and I had simply given
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him the full experience.
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We booked a couple's therapy session, a
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lastditch effort to save our marriage.
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It was there, in a quiet room with a
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neutral third party, that the real
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revelations came. I apologized for my
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methods, but explained my intentions. I
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wanted him to understand that doing it
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all alone was exhausting, that my
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mother's experience had left a deep scar
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on me. He admitted that the two weeks I
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had stopped helping had taken a toll on
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him, and that he finally understood. But
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the root cause of his arrogance and his
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bitterness was something else entirely.
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He felt insecure. All his friends had
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jobs. They provided for their families.
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One of them had even taken his wife on a
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vacation to Greece. My husband, who had
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only made us dinner and given me a
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massage, felt small compared to them. He
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felt like he was supposed to be the
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provider, but I was the one with a
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successful career. He felt stuck. It was
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a heartbreaking moment. I had always
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loved his dinners, his massages. He was
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a good cook, a nurturing father, a kind
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husband. I had never seen him as
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anything less than an equal partner. I
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told him he had my full support if he
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wanted to return to the workplace.
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He said he didn't want the pressure of a
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full-time job, but wanted to earn his
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I encouraged him to look into
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freelancing and remote work, something
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he could do from home. He found a
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lowpaying job, but he's still searching
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for something better. He apologized to
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Ashley, a genuine act of contrition that
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showed me he had finally understood.
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He realized that not everyone has it
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easy, that every family has different
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struggles. He deleted all his blog posts
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about how easy his job was. And in a
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surprising turn of events, Ashley is
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getting a divorce, a decision I fully
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support. We are fine. Our kids are fine.
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We have one more therapy session left.
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But I think we're going to be okay. We
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learned to communicate, to be
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vulnerable, and to see each other not as
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opponents in a petty game, but as
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partners in this crazy thing called
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life. I was scared our marriage would
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collapse, but I am glad we stood