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Joan DeMartin's avatar

Excellent piece! Even though I do not have children nor do I have a husband at the moment, I can still relate.

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Cindy DiTiberio's avatar

Thank you! I'm so glad it resonated even though you are not a mother nor a wife! Sometimes I also wonder if the desire at the heart of this is also the desire to still be mothered ourselves.

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Maryrose Smyth's avatar

I learn 8000 things every time I read a piece that you’ve written with such care drawing connections!!! I’d love to know the entomology of husband. Of shepherd. Of nurse. Of doctor. Of dog. Of witch. Of mender. Of listener. Of detach. Of repair. Of better. Of which way did I go? Of when did you see me last? Of did anyone see me? Of I was just here? Of where did I leave me. Of I’ll come back soon. Of I always come back. Of I forgot what I did with me. Of I forgot how to leave. Of come little me. Of they were so wrong. Of I name myself now. Of I start here.

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Cindy DiTiberio's avatar

Maryrose, this means so much. And yes, to looking at the roots of all that you've mentioned. I love that it becomes almost a poem of its own. We sometimes take these words and concepts for granted without looking at their origins. When we discover the roots, sometimes we can understand why we have so much trouble with them! I'm still annoyed that we are calling the name given to us by our family of origin our "maiden" names. Ugh. Patriarchy.

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Maryrose Smyth's avatar

Omg yes! And when something is remodeled we have building codes and portions of our houses are green lighted—grandfathered in! It’s everywhere. Or was.

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Megan Youngmee's avatar

I get this. very insightful. I find that coming together in sisterhood support is the way home. sharing caretaking.. it so nice. I have a friend who helps take care of kids with me and I come home and the laundry was hung and folded. Dishes are done and put away, crumbs swept up, counters wiped...and my mouth drops. Like. I didn't have to ask?? or remind... or show...or congratulate you for doing the basics? It was just done the way i would have seen it. Wow.. Just wow.

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Chauntelle's avatar

My kids are now 17 and 20 and I’m still doing the majority of the work, especially the emotional work, and now also working full time. When the kids were little, I did every little thing. I once told my husband I wish I had a wife or could at least just be the husband. I tried to explain what you have so eloquently put into words here. He didn’t get it. I decided to list everything I did in a day (THAT was exhausting!) He said “wow!” and carried on as usual. Thank you for putting into words what I so desperately wanted to explain.

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Nikki Stark's avatar

I am completely with you on this, I love my husband but I occasionally fantasise about what it would be like to have a truly equal relationship, what that might feel like.

As with so many women I know, I’m simultaneously the project manager of our lives, and the backstop, the last resort for anything that must be done. If we’re both exhausted but someone must get up and sort some dinner it will always be me. With men so often there is this sense when they don’t want to do something there is a ‘someone else’ who can do it. For women there is no abstract someone else.

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Clarity Work's avatar

This resonated in the marrow. I’ve found myself whispering those same words—I wish I had a wife—not out of longing for romance, but for the kind of steady, invisible care and scaffolding that women are so often expected to provide but rarely receive.

So many of us are holding it all—logistics, emotions, schedules, sick days, breakdowns—without anyone holding us. And the longing isn’t weakness; it’s clarity. It’s the ache for partnership that restores rather than depletes. Thank you for naming it so clearly. I feel less alone for having read this.

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