I’m a one-woman event planner, emotional dumping ground, and calendar: which is the toughest emotional job women do? Women bear a much heavier emotional load than men—here’s why.
The Mirror
I always have to reflect my husband’s mood. If he’s happy, I have to be happy too—I can’t be sad. If he’s angry, I have to get upset with him. If he’s down, I have to sink into that gloom with him. Even if I was in a great mood and he comes home dragging me down with a story about his rude boss. I’m required to mirror every emotion he has.
Feeling Honored
My kids and husband are sweet to trust me as their main confidante, but it can be a lot. Like when I come home after a tough day at work craving a hot bath, quiet, and a glass of wine to calm my nerves—but I have to put all that aside because my little family is waiting and everyone wants to share something with me. It’s an honor they confide in me, but sometimes I feel like there’s no room left in my mind or heart for my own problems because I carry everyone else’s too.
The Challenge
I’m the honorary event planner, like every mom. I have to figure out family activities, which is the most thankless task. One kid wants to hike or play sports, another wants to go to the movies or an exhibition, and the third is only interested in animals. (And I haven’t even mentioned my husband, who’s like a fourth child who always wants to go karting or play billiards.)
So, I organize the plans and sweet-talk whoever’s not happy with them. I beg the kid of the moment to put on a good face since their sibling went to something they liked last time. Sometimes I negotiate or offer rewards—there’s no other way to keep the family together. I can’t just say, “This is where we’re going,” because everyone would freak out: I always have to stay the patient, kind mom. In the end, everyone usually has a good time, but I never get a thank you or appreciation. And no one ever thinks about what I want even once in my life.
Keeping Calm
I have to stay calm and control my emotions when my little boy struggles with math and throws his pencil case against the wall screaming. When my husband has a bad day and can’t be spoken to. When my daughter throws a tantrum refusing to eat dinner because she’s dieting and, by the way, she’s been vegan since yesterday. I can’t get upset—because moms aren’t allowed to—and I can never cry in front of them, or they’ll panic.
(A true story.)
The Itinerary
When I was younger, I wasn’t the super-organized type who remembers everything, but motherhood has forced me to be. I have to keep track of every school event, trip, holiday, performance, sports competition, and parent-teacher meeting. Every dental and medical appointment, including my husband’s. Speaking of him, I also keep track of his work parties, Christmas events, and other gatherings because if I don’t remind him, he’ll forget. When I had my second child, I reminded him in the hospital between contractions not to forget to take out the trash that evening—but he forgot by the time we got home. I spent the first week at home with the baby collecting the trash in a pile at the end of the garden.
The Inventory
I have to know what food we have at home and how much. I’m responsible for where all the electronics warranties and every important document are kept. My husband’s passport, the kids’ birth certificates, report cards, medical records—I know where they all are. I’m the only one who knows which drawer holds batteries, candles, and flashlights. Where the skis, tent, badminton racket, and oar are. The medicines, band-aids, and antiseptics. Even tools like pliers or screwdrivers are counted by me, not my husband.
