Parenting often feels like performing a high-wire act without a net. I learned this the hard way as I juggled a demanding job with being the default parent for our six-year-old Susie. My husband Ryan was a good man who loved us deeply, but like many fathers, he’d unconsciously slipped into a supporting role while I became the director, stagehand, and lead actor in our family’s daily production.
Everything changed when Susie innocently told her teacher, “Mommy does the dad things.” Hearing those words from our daughter’s mouth was like having a mirror held up to our family life. The painful truth? She was right. While Ryan worked long hours at the office, I was the one fixing bikes, checking for monsters under beds, and keeping track of everything from shoe sizes to spelling words.
What followed was a quiet revolution in our household. Ryan began showing up – really showing up – in ways both awkward and endearing. From burned grilled cheese dinners to lopsided birdhouse projects, his efforts weren’t perfect, but they were heartfelt. The greatest gift wasn’t the help itself, but finally feeling seen and appreciated after years of invisible labor.
