Shawn and Marjorie Brimley lighting candles for birthday party in DC backyard
What Not to Say

Why I Might Have to Stop Reading “Mommy Blogs”

I’ve always loved “mommy blogs.” These blogs, where writers discuss the (sometimes hilarious) ups and downs of being a mom, often validate how I feel – overworked, under-appreciated, and just really, really tired. When my kids were babies, mommy blogs were what kept me at my paid job when I thought I might quit. The things I read made me realize that most other moms felt like I did and that we were all just doing the best that we could.

But God, I can’t read half of them anymore. I just finished an article about a working mom in which the author discusses how she does so much more than her husband, even though he picks up their child from school, is home with that child all afternoon and also makes dinner for their family. A year ago, I would have appreciated her perspective because I would have seen the mother’s side – she still has to get her daughter ready for school and work a really long day and put her kid to bed at night after doing the dinner dishes. It’s hard to be a working mom. It’s really hard to feel like you do more than your spouse – I know, because I had some of those moments back when Shawn was alive.

But sometimes it’s just so frustrating to me. I get that it’s annoying when your spouse is taking care of your kid(s) and makes a huge mess, but all I can think is, “my God, her husband is with her kid every day after school!” They get that time together, and while maybe there’s too much TV or too many toys everywhere, the simple fact that this young girl gets to spend hours with her father every day is enough to make me sob with jealousy.

That’s not totally fair, of course. It’s not a contest, and if it were, I certainly wouldn’t have it the hardest. There have been a million women who have come before me with fewer resources and far worse circumstances. So I don’t expect the woman who wrote that article to think about her life in terms of how it compares to mine, or to someone like me. And yet, there’s a part of me that wants to scream, “look at what you have!”

I get it, I do. In fact, far before Shawn got sick, he and I would have conversations that began with, “what if I die?” and one of us would point out all of the things the other person didn’t know how to do. “Marjorie,” he would say to me, “if I die, you won’t know how to deal with our finances or work any of the technology in the house. You need to be involved in this so you know.” I’d reply, “well, what if I die? You wouldn’t know the kids’ schedules or the babysitter’s phone number!” We’d always laugh a bit at ourselves, but this conversation was our way of prodding the other person, just a bit, to be more involved in our own household spheres of influence.

But you know what I was thinking under all of that? I was thinking, “he can believe what he wants, but I do way more around here. He has no idea.”

Maybe I was right. Maybe I did do more. Maybe.

But one thing I’ve said a thousand times since Shawn died was that I didn’t give him enough credit for all of the many things he did. Our home renovation? He ran it. Our finances? He did them. Weekend pancakes and ball games? Again, all him. I could go on.

I don’t blame this author for being frustrated. I don’t know her situation at all. More important, I know I too felt this way at times before Shawn got sick.

I want to be clear. I know that in most households, and often in mine too even before last year, the mother pulls more weight in the chores and the organizing of activities and in a number of other categories. That’s real for a lot of people, and that’s something we need to work on in each of our homes, and in our society as a whole.

But, it’s still hard for me to read articles that disparage fathers. Shawn did so much for our family, and moreover, he spent tons of time with our kids. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was I, and we stumbled along like most parents do, squabbling over the stupid parts of our lives that caused conflict.

Maybe that’s why the article I just read bothers me so much. Maybe it’s not about whether or not mothers do more than fathers. Maybe I just want to find the author, tell her I understand her frustrations, but also tell her to thank her lucky stars each time she walks through the door into a messy home. Because on the other side is her husband. She gets that every day. And I never will again.

So maybe it’s just jealousy that makes it hard for me to read these “mommy blogs.” Maybe I should cut everyone some slack and remember that I too once felt, at times, as though I was the one who really mattered the most to the household as a whole. I was wrong, of course. Because what really mattered didn’t have to do with who was organizing the soccer pick up.

Shawn wasn’t some sort of secondary parent or partner. He was my husband, he was my kids’ father and he desperately loved all of us. He was imperfect, but I was too, and we loved each other anyway. Maybe that’s what I wish we had recognized more often. When he asked me, “what if I die?” I should not have said, “well, I’d figure out how to repair the furnace and hire an accountant.”

I should have said that I’d be devastated.


  • Melissa

    Perfectly said, Marjorie. My high school age grandkids are in the play “Our Town” tonight at their school. My daughter (their mom) teaches there and saw a preview performance yesterday. She texted me last night to tell me how good it was, but that the third act wherein Emily dies and asks for one more chance to relive part of her life was almost too much to bear and that I might want to leave during the intermission because it’s so soon after my husband’s passing. She had tears streaming down her face and had to go back to class to face her students.

    I knew of the play, but not that much about it so I found a YouTube clip of Emily’s speech in the Paul Newman production of the movie. I had the same reaction. Here’s a little bit of it (with stage direction): “Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. (she asks abruptly through her tears) Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute? (she sighs) I’m ready to go back. I should have listened to you. That’s all human beings are! Just blind people.”

    I think this ties in with what you are saying, that sometimes we don’t realize what a gift we have in life with our partners until that’s been taken away from us. The everyday stuff gets in the way of the important things. Your take is spot on. Sorry if this is too long.

    • Marjorie

      It’s never too long! I love that you shared this and that you are reading. And that play – it captures so much.

  • Carmelita

    I’m glad to hear these comments from you both, Marjorie and Melissa.
    That’s been my biggest regret since my husband Bob’s death. Not appreciating him enough for all the amazing things he did that I couldn’t do . Marriage really is teamwork, a complementary partnership, especially with family. Maybe we can spread the word from what we now know.
    Especially since I played Emily in my high school play.

    • Melissa

      Carmelita–I stayed for the entirety of the play and was glad I did. Kudos to you for taking on such an emotionally taxing role. I think everyone was quite moved and perhaps came away with a changed perspective about appreciating each other more. One can hope.

    • Marjorie

      I think it’s hard to see everything when we are living in the moment. What widowhood – tragically – gives us is that perspective that’s so hard to see when we are just living our lives.

  • Trish

    So very true 🙁 I’m so sorry, it really sucks!! There have been so many times in the past almost year that I have wished I could just go back in time and say how much I appreciated everything my husband took care of, that at the time I took for granted. Oh God to be given the chance at a do-over… I wouldn’t care who did more diapers or dishes, just that he was still here!
    I read a quote after he passed “Marriage is not 50/50, marriage is 100/100. Divorce is 50/50!”
    I think we all have times where we think that we are doing more than half of the (insert least favourite chore here 😉 but looking back who cares, it’s not a competition. It’s life. Like you say “There is no handbook for how to do this.” I fully agree with you and we as a society need to try to appreciate who/what we have, when we have them/it. Life can change so very quickly. Becoming a widow with young children certainly changes your perspective on many things.
    Thank you for your blog! You’ve helped me through my grief journey 💞

    • Marjorie

      I’m so glad that my blog is helpful – truly, it means a lot to me that other people are reading. And yes – marriage is 100/100, that’s for sure. Though I’m sure you now feel like I do – like you’re doing 200%!

  • Meaghan

    Thank you for making me stop, take a minute and be grateful for what I do have; my husband. May your words stick with me so that I might be a little bit more grateful every day.

    • Marjorie

      And thanks for telling me that. I do think it’s hard to stop and think of gratitude in the middle of the day! I just think about it all of the time now.

  • Kate

    Almost daily, I apologize to my late husband for criticizing: what he did or didn’t do, or his commission-only paycheck and how stressful that made family finances, or that he wasn’t much of a “budget” guy—
    When he first died it was almost a relief to not argue those points… Now I realize I wish I’d never argued in the first place. In the giant scheme it’s just not a big deal, we lived, ate, stayed clothed with a nice roof over our heads. Hindsight is 20/20, right? Sigh.

  • siswet19

    When I originally commented I clicked the
    “Notify me when new comments are added” checkbox and now each time
    a comment is added I get three e-mails with the same comment.
    Is there any way you can remove people from that service?
    Many thanks!

    • Marjorie

      I’m not sure! I’ll see the woman who helps me run this blog sometime in the next few weeks and I’ll see if she can fix this!