We Should Send Our Husbands Away More Often

I’m sending my husband out of the house more often. Yes, on purpose. Not because he’s another child to take care of, and not because he sucks. But actually because he’s too good at being a good dad and I need the space to become more confident in myself as a good mom.

I’m not calling for backup the next time he goes on a trip. I actually think I need less help from him and everyone else for that matter. Not more like I’ve been preaching over and over again. From now on I’m leaning in fully and completely with my kids.

I know how that sounds. Say it out loud in a room full of moms who are fighting for a 5 minute shower and watch what happens to their faces.

I was the one making that face one week ago. And every single time he left before that. My first thought is usually something along the lines of, how could he possibly have the audacity to leave me alone like this? I’ve made him the enemy. I’ve made myself the victim of his choices. That’s been the story on repeat. Whether he’s leaving for work that day or heading out for a week.

I just came off of five full days alone with my kids. No help. No extra hands. No breaks. Five full days just me and them that I did not ask for and did not want, and it shattered my repetitive sob story into a million pieces.

I have a lot of help, typically. We’ve tried on all types of childcare setups. We’ve tried nannies when the kids were younger. We have grandparents visiting regularly. And my husband has a very flexible work-life balance that allows him the time freedom to be around… a lot. We do a ton as a family of four together and a lot with extended family too.

It’s great. I love it. It’s the “dream setup” that many women wish for. A present, loving husband who prioritizes family time. And extended family who are welcome with open arms. Our village is strong. And because it’s been our normal, I thought it was the only way I could possibly survive.

So every time my husband goes on a trip, which is a few times a year, I immediately think, okay, who in my village can I call on? Having kids fourteen months apart, it’s sort of automatic to feel that need for help, especially with them being so young. It’s one of those things where I almost can’t fathom being with them by myself for twenty-four hours, let alone this five day trip.

But as the trip was approaching and I was reaching out to family, no one was available to come. And so I did the thing that I think most of us women do, which is immediately resent my husband and make snarky comments like, seriously? A five day fishing trip? Are you fucking kidding me? I would NEVER.

But playing the victim card hasn’t been my vibe lately. That’s not the type of relationship dynamic I want to have. And it’s definitely not the one I want to model to my kids. And so that means taking responsibility and for lack of a better phrase, sucking it up. Because it’s so easy to tell the story that I couldn’t possibly be capable of doing this alone. That I wouldn’t survive. And as a result, not even try.

I think that’s why it’s so important to not just understand your Self, but TEST yourself. It’s one thing to analyze your energy, it’s a whole other thing to actually experiment with your limits. Being in the challenge and the suck of it all is the only way to see what you’re truly capable of. I didn’t have the opportunity before these five days to recognize what I was truly capable of as a mother. I was making an assumption that of course I would spiral out. Of course I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I would go crazy. I would have to tap out. I would need reprieve. I didn’t have it in me.

And it was so interesting how quick everyone close to me was to say, make sure you find a way to take breaks! Link up with people! Get a babysitter for a night! You NEED you time! Don’t forget about You!

Dare I say it… but I think that we have gotten a little too heavy-handed on the advice we give mothers around this idea of needing time in order to survive.

You need a break, you need reprieve, you deserve this time for yourself. Or else you’re never going to survive motherhood!

Really? I’m pretty sure we’ve been surviving since the beginning of time inside this role. With less help, and more kids.

Look… I’m not saying that as mothers we shouldn’t have balance in our lives and find time for us, but the reframe is that time can be found inside of motherhood. You do not have to escape your life to find reprieve. It just requires a little more discipline, a bit of a mental reframe, and the limitless well of creativity that lives inside of you.

Because what I’ve noticed is when I know reprieve is coming, I’m spending so much of my time with the kids counting down the minutes on the clock and thinking about when that next break is going to set me free.

And that’s not the way I want to feel inside my life anymore.

As the trip got closer, my husband was saying to me “You’re going to love it.” In my head I’m like like, oh really? I’m going to love it, you asshole?Yeah, I’m sure I’m going to love it… you have fun on your stupid fishing trip. And he’s like…. no I think this is going to change something in you. You’re going to thrive because you thrive in the hard and you underestimate yourself regularly.

That really struck me. And fuck, he was right. Because I think it’s so easy when you feel swallowed by the discomfort of motherhood to just… tap out. Send the SOS call. I just need a fucking minute!! I imagine we’ve all had that moment, right? And I had many of those moments inside of those five days. But what I didn’t have was the out. And that was the thing I didn’t know I needed to not have access to, in order to understand how to truly lean in to and embrace the very temporary suck, and the I-just-needing-a-fucking-minute moment that guess what… passes.

It pushed me past the upper limit I'd created inside my own experience of motherhood — and showed me my capacity is far more limitless than I ever gave myself credit for.

Five bedtimes, both kids, solo, every single night. Responding to every single demand. Making every single decision. Cleaning up every single mess. Breaking up every single fight. Navigating every single tantrum. No “hey, can you handle this one?” Just me, doing it all, alone, five days straight.

Because I treated this like a full-on science experiment — as if I was going to give a presentation and be graded on it later — I decided to take notes. I made it much harder than it had to be. I analyzed myself inside of it all. And I came out the other side with a survival guide (mostly for myself, for next time — and something I intend on carrying into motherhood daily).

How I survived five days alone with my kids without pulling my hair out or resenting my husband. And what it taught me about wanting to send him away more, go all in with my kids, and try for a third.