There’s a war going on in every home. It may be silent, but it’s deadly. Both sides are completely validated in standing their ground, and both sides have much to lose. It’s a standoff that potentially makes or breaks us all. The war between the primary caregiver and the working parent, or the working parent verse working parent.
I won’t be using genders to describe this war because I was raised primarily by a single father and this isn’t about mother verse father or battle of the sexes. It’s about the standoff between parents. Between the one who stays home, and the one who doesn’t. Between the workers and how they divide their home and parenting responsibilities and between the struggles and pains of both sides which if you are the other, can be so difficult to understand.
It starts small. A little jealousy that one gets to spend more time with your child than you. Jealous that one gets to leave the house and feel purposeful for the day. After a bad day at home, you’ll curse the fact that you’re counting down till five o’clock. After a shit day at work, you just need five when you get home to reboot. So you start to feel a little niggle, unsure of what it is but you feel unsettled, and so the seed of war is planted.
You forget about weekends because every day’s the same. You hate the weekends now because it just means your other job (parenting). You’ve cried all day, and your sole achievement is you and baby alive. You survived another stressful day at work and came home to world war three. You wonder why the house is destroyed; your child’s been thrown into your arms and your partners locked them self in the bathroom. The war seed has sprung.
You ask your other half to pick up take out for dinner. The other half thinks it’s the fourth time this week, it’s a bit excessive but okay. You crave validation and worth from something other than cooking, cleaning, nappies repeat. You’d give up your job, your accolades and your awards in a heartbeat if you could only be there for the first crawl, first tooth, and first I love you. The war seed grows.
You think a family holiday is such a good idea, no work, no stress just your partner and precious little one. You think a family holiday is a terrible idea. It’s like your normal day, with another set of helping hands and nicer backdrop. Why can’t we get a sitter and just sleep for a day? You try to explain you’ve just been at work for ten hours and need a minute to wind down. You explain you never leave work and your job is 24/7 and when the fuck can you wind down? The war seed is flourishing.
You wonder why they work so much. Do they take the overtime to avoid you? Do they not want to do their fair share at home? You’re sick with worry because the financial responsibility of taking care of your family is overwhelming. You work yourself stupid in hope one day you won’t need to and the future you’ve provided, is worth the time you’ve sacrificed.
Without noticing, your seed is an overgrown garden of resentment. It’spushed you both so far apart you can’t see each other through the bushes. You forget it started as a niggle; you forget you’re both in this together, and you just forget why you chose this person in the first place. Even if you both work, you’re at war. Waring as to whose times more precious. Waring about the unequal division of home and parent responsibilities. Waring about whether your pittance of an income, which barely covers child care, is worth it. But you love your work and you want to contribute. So now your waring with yourself, wrought with guilt that you can’t do either job sufficiently, partner, parent, employee.
Put down the firearms. Call a truce, for you, for them and for your family. You’re both right. You’re both wrong. Right because your feelings are true and you deserve understanding and love. Wrong because you grew the seed, you watered it every day. With your snide remark, with your refusal to communicate and when your anger overcame your compassion and you stopped seeing them, only the bush. This is not a war to be won, to conquer the other means to break them and ultimately all you have built.
Do I have the answer? No. Have I fought the battle? Yes! Is there plenty more to come? You bet! But my partner is the person I chose to start a family with. He isn’t my enemy; he is my ally. I need him to survive parenting full stop and I can’t afford to be at war with him or myself. So we’re working on it. The truth is we try to understand something we can’t because although we’re on this parenting journey together, our experience is so unique even when we’re in a team/couple. But try, try to understand and empathise. My Husband and I are honest with our feelings, open about our needs and compromise where possible, concede when necessary and respect each other and our vital roles. This may not be of use to you so I’ll leave you with this, we’re planting and nourishing seeds every day. Seeds of love, seeds of knowledge and sometimes seeds of war. Be mindful what you nourish, because you both contribute to what dies and what will flourish.
Side note: If you’re a single parent reading this then you’re winning the war! You’re the commander and the cavalry and even though you’re fighting your battles alone, I hope other parents, family and friends are your allies. More than your ally, I’m your biggest fan and am in awe of the wars you fight and win every day.
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