When my husband smugly announced he was going on a resort vacation without me because I “don’t work,” I smiled sweetly and let him go. But behind that smile? A storm was brewing. He thought I did nothing all day. He was about to find out exactly how wrong he was.
Keith strutted into the house like he’d just won the lottery. Smug. Too smug.
“Guess what?” he said, dropping his keys in the bowl and plopping down on the couch like he hadn’t just left me pacing the hallway with our screaming 12-week-old. “Mom and Dad are going to a resort. They invited me. I’m going next week.”
I blinked. Lily in my arms was red-faced and wailing, and I was running on two hours of sleep, a granola bar, and the last remnants of lukewarm coffee.
“Wait… what?” I said, my voice hoarse.
Keith shrugged. “I NEED a break.”
A pause. Just long enough for me to hear the sound of my blood boiling.
“And me?” I asked quietly, patting the baby’s back while rocking slightly on my feet.
He gave me that look — the one that made my eye twitch. “Babe, you don’t work. You’re on maternity leave. It’s not like you’re in an office all day.”
I nearly choked on air.
“You mean… taking care of a newborn around the clock isn’t work?”
Keith laughed, actually laughed. “I mean, come on. It’s not the same. You nap when the baby naps, right? It’s like a long vacation. Besides, I’m the only breadwinner right now. I deserve this.”
Oh. Oh no.
I laughed too. Not because it was funny. But because I was dangerously close to launching the baby bottle at his head. Instead, I inhaled slowly, counted to three, and smiled sweetly — the way only a truly pissed-off wife can.
“Of course, dear. You’re the ONLY breadwinner. Go have fun.”
Keith smirked, fully convinced he’d just won the lottery of oblivious husbands.
Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea.
The day he left for his little “well-deserved vacation,” I kissed him on the cheek and waved from the porch with our baby in one arm, a diaper bag on the other, and m.u.r.der in my eyes.
As soon as his car disappeared down the street, I sprang into action.
First, I emptied the refrigerator. After all, he clearly thought groceries appeared out of thin air since I did nothing all day.
Next, I gathered every piece of dirty laundry in the house and piled it in front of the washing machine.
I logged into our joint account and canceled all the automatic payments: electricity, water, internet, and streaming services. Everything.
Then I packed up Lily’s entire nursery. Crib, changing table, diapers, wipes, clothes — all of it went into the car.
Finally, I wrote a note and left it on the kitchen counter:
“Lily and I are on vacation too. Don’t wait up.”
I turned off my phone, strapped Lily into her car seat, and drove to my mom’s house.
Freedom never felt so good.
Keith had promised to call every evening, so I knew it wouldn’t take long for him to notice something was wrong, even if he was being incredibly dense about how much work I put into our home.
Two days later, I turned my phone back on.
His frantic texts started rolling in almost immediately.
“Sharon, why aren’t you answering your phone? I’m worried. I’m coming home early and will be home tonight.”
“Sharon, where ARE you?? Where’s Lily? What do you mean, you’re on vacation?”
“The fridge is EMPTY. I had to eat takeout!”
“WHY is the electricity bill overdue? They’re threatening to shut it off!”
“Where are my WORK CLOTHES? I have a meeting TOMORROW!”
I let him stew for another full day before responding with a simple text:
“Relax, babe! Since I don’t work, I figured you wouldn’t mind handling things while I took a break, too.”
His response was immediate and desperate:
“I GET IT, OKAY? I was wrong. Please, just come back!”
I smiled at my phone. Message received.
Two days later, I walked through our front door with Lily on my hip, surveying the damage.
There were dishes piled high in the sink and takeout containers scattered across the counter. The laundry situation had gotten worse.
And in the middle of it all stood Keith, unshaven and wild-eyed, looking like he hadn’t slept since he got back.
“You’re back,” he said, his voice cracking with relief.
“Looks like you had a relaxing break,” I replied, taking in his disheveled appearance.
Keith ran a hand through his hair. “Sharon, I am so sorry. I was an idiot.”
“Go on,” I prompted, adjusting Lily in my arms.
“I didn’t realize how much you actually do around here. All day, every day.” He gestured helplessly at the chaos surrounding us. “I couldn’t even keep things going for a week.”
“And?”
“And I was selfish and wrong to suggest that staying home with Lily isn’t work. It’s more work than I do at the office. I should have seen that.” He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded slowly, letting him stew a bit longer.
“I missed you both so much,” he continued. “The house felt empty without you.”
“The house IS empty,” I pointed out. “I took everything important.”
A small smile cracked through his misery. “Yeah, I noticed that too.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Here.”
Keith took it, frowning. “What’s this?”
“It’s a chore list,” I explained. “From now on, we’re splitting all the chores.”
His face went pale. “Everything…?”
“That’s right,” I said, patting his shoulder. “Since I don’t ‘work’ and all, I assume you’ll have no issue doing half of these while I take some much-needed breaks of my own.”
Keith glanced down at the list, swallowed hard, and nodded. “That’s fair.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I said, finally feeling a real smile form. “Because I’ve booked myself a spa day for Saturday, and you’re on Lily duty.”
Keith reached for our daughter. “Hey, princess,” he whispered, holding her close. “Daddy missed you.”
Lily gurgled happily, completely unaware of the power shift that had just occurred in our household.
“I’ll do better,” Keith promised, looking at me over Lily’s head. “I swear.”
“You will,” I agreed. “Because if you ever suggest again that taking care of our daughter isn’t real work, I’ll take more than just her diapers next time.”
He laughed nervously. “Message received.”
“Good,” I said, heading toward the bedroom. “Now, I’m going to take a shower without a tiny human screaming for my attention. Think you can handle dinner?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Keith said, bouncing Lily gently.
As I walked away, I heard him whisper to our daughter, “Your mom is scary smart, you know that? But don’t tell her I said so — I’m in enough trouble already.”
I smiled to myself. Lesson fully learned.
