My dear husband—

You’ve been there for me during many a vent sessions. You have calmed me down, built me back up and have witnessed several nervous breakdowns.

You know that I have a lot to say about the mental load I bear as a mother. A lot of us mothers feel it in a very real way. And this load on our shoulders is not only mental—it’s also physical and emotional. We remember the things, we get the things done, we worry about the things. (All the things.)

You see—motherhood can feel really heavy sometimes.

But I’m not alone in parenting my children.

I have you—this amazing father to my children whom I love and admire very much. I am so grateful for you.

You are almost always the one to wake up with either child during the night to get them back to sleep. You’re always the one to distribute any necessary medication to our kids when they’re sick because you know it makes me nervous. Not to mention, you’re the laundry wizard and the garden master and you’re really, really fun.

You work so hard. And you can parent with the best of ’em.

If I had one complaint—just one, because you’re so wonderful (?)—it would be that you could use a little work on completing the tasks you start around the house.

Like, when you make the girls toast with peanut butter—that’s awesome because it’s their favorite and it’s also helpful that someone other than me did that for them—but you leave the empty peanut butter jar on the counter. So I put it in the recycling because I don’t want it to hang out on the counter for days.

Or I love how you’re so proactive about covering up the leftovers and getting them safely tucked into the fridge, but then you’ll leave the saran wrap on the counter. Does that not bother you? (Spoiler alert: it bothers me.)

I am so beyond thrilled that you love doing bath time and bedtime prep with the girls. But after you get them into their PJs, you leave their dirty clothes from the day on the ground in the hallway instead of putting them in the hamper. (But the hamper isn’t that far away from the floor in the hall, TBH…)

I have turned into the default task finisher around our house. For you, for me and for our kids.

And listen—I know you think I’m perfect (?), but I’m not. I forget things, too.

I almost always forget to switch the laundry over whenever I put a load on and then have to wash the same clothes again, and I know this annoys you.

I have no concept of time and sometimes start getting ready for something about 10 minutes before we need to leave causing us to be late when you like to be early or at least on time. (I am working on it!)

I hate bringing the car in for oil changes and keep “forgetting” or just give in and spend the extra money on the drive-through option.

I don’t break down the boxes that go into the recycling and I know you sometimes have to do that on recycling day because our bin is overflowing.

I despise washing the floors and often pawn it off on you somehow. You’re sweet to always be the one to do it without complaining. (Because that job stinks, let’s be real.)

So, no matter how annoying I am being when I joke with you about “finishing the task” (or when I write articles about it…) I want you to know that I do really appreciate you doing your part around here.

Because the truth is—I couldn’t operate this house without you.

We may not always act as a perfectly, well-oiled machine—but this machine is working hard and getting things done.

When either of us completes a task around the house like unloading the dishwasher or folding a load of laundry—we’re doing that because this house, and the responsibilities that go along with it, belong to the both of us. We know we need to take care of this stuff and it makes me proud that we both prioritize that—even if it’s not exactly how the other one would do it.

Every time one of us checks something off our running household to-do list, it shows the other (and our children) that we love them, we value them and we respect them.

We take care of each other and the home we’ve created together—and that makes me feel so loved.

So let’s promise to work on our shortcomings. I’ll work on mine and you work on yours, and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.

It’ll never be 100% perfect, but I believe in us and our teamwork abilities, it’ll be close enough for me. Together, we’ve got this.

Now please put that peanut butter jar in the recycling.