I hadn’t slept a full night in three months since Lily was born, and maternity leave turned out to be more exhausting than working in an office. One day, while juggling laundry and a crying baby, Keith came home looking fresh and asked how my day was. I told him Lily had been fussy, but Keith complained about his tough day at work and kicked back on the couch. When he said staying home with Lily was like a “permanent vacation,” I was taken aback. Instead of reacting, I smiled and said, “Of course, enjoy your vacation.”
A week later, Keith told me he was going to a resort with his parents. I was stunned. He waved it off, saying I didn’t need a vacation since I didn’t work. I decided it was time for a lesson. I packed up everything important—Lily’s nursery, all the groceries, and canceled our bills—and left him a note saying we were on vacation too.
Keith’s frantic texts flooded my phone, but I waited two days to respond, casually mentioning I figured he’d handle things since I didn’t work. When I returned two days later, the house was a disaster, and Keith looked like he hadn’t slept. He apologized profusely, admitting he didn’t realize how much I did. I handed him a chore list and said we’d split everything from now on. I also booked myself a spa day, leaving him on Lily duty.
Keith promised to do better, and I reminded him that if he ever suggested being a stay-at-home mom wasn’t hard work again, I’d take more than just the diapers next time. He laughed nervously, and I knew the lesson had been learned.
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