In families, it’s often the mom who ends up handling all the tasks—even those that normally wouldn’t be hers.
Bottled Up
Once, I couldn’t pick up my daughter from preschool because of work, so my husband did. I warned him she might get upset since she doesn’t like surprises, but to bring her home and I’d comfort her later. When I got home exhausted, my husband said she hadn’t thrown a fit at all. But as soon as she saw me, she burst into tears, throwing herself into my arms, crying, "Mom, where were you? I waited for you and you didn’t come!" She stayed calm around my husband but saved all her frustration to unload on me that evening.
The Helper
I thought adopting a sweet dog would be my emotional support—since I’m already the emotional anchor for every family member—but no. The dog uses me as their support: when there’s thunder, only I can soothe them; when hungry, only I get the whines; when craving affection, they come only to me…
The Funeral
As the eldest daughter, I was used to being the emotional dumping ground, but even I was surprised when at 13, I handled everything for my grandfather’s funeral and all the relatives cried on my shoulder…
Mom
My kids behave like little angels when dad, grandma, or my sister watches them, but the moment they see me, they scream like baby birds—hungry, tired, cold, bored, you name it.
Alone
I listen to my husband’s coworker being a jerk. To my daughter’s fight with her best friend. To my son’s breakup. To my mom’s rude butcher. To my brother arguing with dad. But who do I vent to? No one. I quietly cry a little while washing dishes and then keep going.
The Mediator
I mediated conflicts between my mom and grandma, a fight between my two sisters-in-law, and a disagreement between my son and daughter—all within a month. After that, I told everyone I was drained and not a therapist, asking them to cut me some slack. They lasted two weeks before my brother called, asking me to smooth things over with my uncle. I realized this is my role—and there’s no escaping it.
The Ban
I had to forbid my family from saying my name because during the first three days of our vacation, I didn’t get a single moment of peace. Everyone expected me to fix their problems. Take care of the kid who stepped on a shell. Arrange a new hotel room for my mom. Tell the waiter my sister-in-law didn’t order the soup that way. Find my husband’s iPad. Not five minutes passed without someone bothering me!
The Gift-Giver
My uncle is 55 and had a girlfriend for a few years who has a 13-year-old son. I met the woman three times in my life but never the boy. Still, from the start of their relationship, it was my job to get the boy’s birthday and Christmas gifts because my uncle “wouldn’t know what a kid that age wants.” I have a two-year-old daughter—I’m no expert on teenage boys’ gifts, but whatever. My uncle and the woman broke up six months ago, but since he’s still on good terms with the boy, even though he’s just the ex-stepson, it’s still my responsibility to buy gifts for him.
