My husband does the hardest job in the world
I wish I could steal it from him
In my household, I’m the main breadwinner. The one with the full time job and the long commute. The one bringing in most of the money and all of the benefits.
On a routine workday, I’m out of the house for nearly 12 hours. By the time I roll in, all that’s left of my five-year-old twins’ day is dinner and bath and bedtime. In the morning, I’m gone before they even get up.
That’s 2 or 2.5 hours I get to spend with my kids, tops.
I hate it.
My husband gets them up in the morning, gets them breakfast, packs their lunches, finds their lost shoes, and walks them to kindergarten. In the afternoon, he walks back to the school to pick them up again. He helps with homework and kisses boo-boos, chops up fruits and veggies for snacks, repairs dolls and battery-operated trains, referees arguments, and struggles with tantrums.
By the time I get home, he’s exhausted.
So am I. But his exhaustion comes from doing things for people he loves, and mine comes from doing things for money.
I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat, but I’m painfully aware that even if he were to find the perfect job in his field, one that pays even more than mine does, with an even better benefits package, it wouldn’t have the same job security that mine does after 25 years with the same employer.
But this week, he’s tending to an out-of-state family thing, so I’m home, doing all the stuff for and with my kids that he usually gets to do.
I get to sleep later, and I have the house to myself for 5+ hours while the kids are at school, and yet I’m still twice as tired at day’s end as I am when I have to go in to the office.
But that satisfaction when I look back on the day and see not only what I accomplished but what I did for my kids…