A mother of four who worked more hours than her spouse was worn out from doing all the housework. She pleaded with her husband and children to provide a hand, but her requests were frequently denied. She ultimately decided to take matters into her own hands and discipline them for putting off their responsibilities.
My name is Sarah, and I lead a hectic life filled with family obligations and real estate transactions. My spouse, Mark, works at a shipyard, and together we are responsible for parenting four children: our eight-month-old daughter, Mia, the 13-year-old twins Emma and Ethan, and 12-year-old Lily. Mark and I work around 50–60 hour weeks, but I don’t get weekends off.
I made our kids do chores for years, educating them to be useful members of the family. However, with the birth of Mia, everyone’s efforts—including Mark’s—have decreased. When I go home, I frequently find him hooked to his phone on the couch, while the kids are engrossed in cosmetics tutorials or video games.
The kitchen is in terrible shape, and while the house isn’t unclean per such, it is cluttered. I’ve expressed my displeasure to Mark on several occasions, occasionally taking extreme steps like turning off the internet, calling off family vacations, grounding the kids, and getting into furious disputes with him.
One weekend, for example, the kitchen was a war zone again, with dishes piling up in the sink and supper scraps all over the surfaces. With my fury seething just below the surface, I stood at the doorway.
“Mark, I have to stop doing this,” I said, my voice quivering with resentment. “I arrive home to the same mess every day. How do you spend your entire day?
Mark’s expression when he looked up from his phone was a mixture of remorse and frustration. “Sarah, I also work.” I’d love to spend the weekends simply relaxing because I’m exhausted when I get home.
I raised my hands in frustration. And I’m not, either? I put in almost as many hours at work as you do! However, it seems that only I am concerned with keeping this place habitable.
Mark grew stern-faced. “I fulfill my share. But occasionally, I also require a vacation.
A pause? Do you believe I don’t require a break? My tone became more pointed as I raised my voice. “Even without cleaning a sink full of dishes beforehand, I can’t even prepare supper. You and the kids both have duties to complete, but nothing gets done until I badger them all. I’m over playing the villain.
Mark got to his feet, losing control of his emotions. I apologize for my imperfections. The kids and I may not be as stressed out if you didn’t make such a huge deal out of everything.
My eyes blinked. “Oh, so I’m to blame now? Maybe I wouldn’t have to be the one keeping things together if you would simply take charge and parent. I’m worn out, Mark. It’s not just about the cuisine here. It all comes down to accountability and respect.
We kept arguing, our voices resonating throughout the home as every word served as a reminder of the widening gap between us. After one of our heated disagreements that day, he cleaned up and tidied the home, but my efforts always resulted in temporary gains that soon vanished.
Thus, yesterday was much the same as I had anticipated—my kids and spouse had at least cleaned the home. I told them, “You guys better have your chores done by the time I get home,” before I left for work. Their standard response was “Yes, ma’am.”
I texted Mark at approximately 4:30 p.m. after work to find out what they wanted for supper, and I picked up their requests at the supermarket.
When I stepped into our house, I saw the same depressing scene: the kids in their rooms, Mark relaxing on the couch, a damp load of laundry in the washer, and an overfull sink.
After placing the goods on the table and packing Mia’s bag, I gave Mark the go-ahead to start. I’m headed to Applebee’s. He gave me a startled look, but I left with Mia without saying anything more. He phoned around twenty minutes later.
“I did the dishwashing. I apologize. I felt very exhausted today.
“You constantly make that excuse. Could you not even remind the three elder children that they had duties to complete? I fired back, tiring of waiting.
“I am aware. I apologize. I’m attempting to address it. Would you please just go home? I’m not sure how to prepare this food,” he begged.
He was acting like a baby even though he was an adult, and I was sick of it.
Although it’s a challenging recipe, you can obtain instructions online or on YouTube by searching for it. Thus, no. Mia and I are sitting at Applebee’s, enjoying our steak and shrimp. You can manage on your own with the children. I’m not going to let you off the hook this time, apology or not.
He put me on speakerphone, and I could hear the kids asking him to get them something from Applebee’s in the background.
I firmly replied, “Absolutely not,” and hung up.
The family had resigned themselves to grilled cheese and cereal for supper when I got home, and the groceries had already been put away. As Mark and the children sat at the table, their emotions mixed with contempt and irritation, the tension in the room was tangible.
I firmly said, “Everyone should know that this is how it will be every single time you don’t do your chores,” maintaining my position in spite of the awkward quiet that ensued.
With weary but stubborn eyes, Mark raised his gaze. “We understand, Sarah. But did you really need to go in that manner? We would have completed it if you had just informed us to.
I inhaled deeply while attempting to maintain my composure. “I already told you. repeatedly. And nothing is altered. I’m sick and tired of being the only one who is motivated to take action.
One of the twins, Emma, pushed her food about on her plate and glanced down. We apologize to you, Mom. We apologized for upsetting you in such a way.
The twelve-year-old Lily spoke out, her voice low. “We didn’t consider it to be that significant. We assumed you would only remind us one more.
A twinge of remorse shot through me, but I ignored it. It is significant. It goes beyond the dishes. It’s about us all being accountable for our houses. I want to be sure that you have been doing nothing but lounging around and that when I get home, I won’t be walking into additional work.
With his fingers sweeping over his hair, Mark reclined in his chair. “That’s understandable, Sarah. But perhaps we might approach this in a more effective manner. Exiting violently is not the solution.
My annoyance flared up once more. “Mark, I’ve tried talking. I’ve tried nagging, reminding, and politely asking. Nothing is persistent. I had to prove to you all that I mean business.
Sighing, he glanced at the children and then back at me. “All right. We’ll perform better. Can we, however, also decide to have a conversation before things get this far?
I nodded, a mixture of relief and residual rage in my stomach. Yes, but only if genuine initiative comes from everybody. This is not something I can handle on my own.
Mark moved across the table to grasp my hand as the children gave me a somber nod. “Sarah, we can figure things out. We’ll all put forth more effort.
Observing my family, I couldn’t help but think back on the day’s happenings. Had I overreached myself? Perhaps. However, something had to give. I thought that they would finally wake up as a result of this. If and when the message had finally clicked in, only time would tell.
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