When my husband bragged he was heading to a resort without me because I “don’t work,” I smiled sweet and let him go. But behind that smile? Trouble was coming. He thought I sat around all day. He was about to eat those words.
I hadn’t slept a full night in three months. Not since Holly showed up and flipped our world with her tiny fists and monster lungs.
Don’t get me wrong: I loved my girl more than life, but the tiredness was brutal. Maternity leave was tougher than any office gig.
That afternoon, I was bouncing Holly on my hip, trying to hush her fussing while folding laundry with one hand.
My hair hadn’t seen shampoo in four days, and I was rocking the same spit-up-stained tee for day two.
Walt walked in looking sharp in his button-down and slacks. Not a hair messed up.
“How was your day?” he asked.
I forced a grin. “Same old. Holly was cranky all afternoon.”
Walt crashed on the couch and stretched his legs.
“Man, work kicked my butt today.” He kicked off his shoes. “Three meetings back-to-back. I’m wiped.”
I bit my tongue. “Dinner’s in the oven. Twenty minutes.”
“Sweet,” Walt said, snagging the remote. “I’m starving.”
Holly started wailing again. I bounced harder, patting her back, shushing.
Walt leaned back and sighed. “Must be nice chilling home all day with Holly. Like a never-ending vacation.”
A laugh shot out — sharp and bitter. “Vacation? You think this is a vacation?”
Walt shrugged. “You know what I mean. You’re not working right now, so you don’t get wiped like me.”
I stared, wondering if he’d always been this clueless or if it was fresh. Before I could snap, the oven buzzed. Holly screamed louder.
“Dinner’s up,” I said flat, handing him the baby. “Your turn.”
Walt took Holly like she was a bomb. “But I just got home. Need to chill.”
“And I need to plate food,” I said, heading to the kitchen. “Unless you wanna trade?”
He frowned but shut up. Small win.
A week later, Walt came home grinning ear to ear.
“Guess what?” he said, dumping his briefcase by the door.
I was in the living room, bouncing a cranky Holly on my hip. “What?”
“Mom and Dad are hitting a resort next week, and they invited me.” His eyes sparkled. “I’m in.”
I froze mid-bounce. “Wait… what?”
“Yeah, killer spot in Cancun. All-inclusive. Five days of sun, sand, and zero stress.” He sighed happy. “I need this.”
A weird noise came out of me. Took a second to realize I was laughing — not funny, just pure shock.
“And me?” I finally choked out.
Walt waved it off. “Babe, you don’t work, so you don’t need a break. You’re already on one.”
I blinked slow, anger boiling so hot I felt it in my veins.
But instead of chucking the bottle at his thick skull, I smiled sweet.
“Of course, honey. You’re the money guy. Go have fun.”
Walt didn’t spot the danger in my eyes. Just grinned, pecked my cheek, and bolted upstairs — probably to pack his swim trunks.
Huge mistake.
While Walt prepped for his “hard-earned” getaway, I cooked up my own plan. Secret moves to school my husband good.
The morning he left, I kissed him goodbye with a smile so real it shocked me. But I was about to get my own sweet payback.
“Have fun,” I said chipper. “Don’t stress about us.”
“I won’t,” Walt said, totally blind. “Back in five.”
Soon as his car vanished, I kicked into gear.
First, I cleared the fridge. After all, he thought food just magically appeared since I did jack all day.
Next, I rounded up every dirty thing and dumped it in front of the washer.
I hopped online, canceled every auto-pay: power, water, internet, streaming. All of it.
Then I packed Holly’s whole room. Crib, changing table, diapers, wipes, clothes — everything in the car.
Finally, I left a note on the counter:
“Holly and I are on vacation too. Don’t wait up.”
I shut off my phone, buckled Holly in, and drove to Mom’s.
Freedom never tasted so sweet.
Walt swore he’d call every night, so I knew he’d flip soon — even if he was clueless about how much I actually handled.
Two days later, I powered my phone back on.
His frantic texts poured in fast.
“Skyler, why no answer? I’m worried. Coming home early — tonight.”
“Skyler, WHERE ARE YOU?? Where’s Holly? Vacation??”
“Fridge is EMPTY. Had to grab takeout!”
“Power bill LATE. They’re gonna cut it!”
“Where are my WORK CLOTHES? Meeting TOMORROW!”
I let him sweat another full day before shooting back:
“Chill, babe! Since I don’t work, figured you wouldn’t mind running things while I took a break too.”
His reply hit instant and desperate:
“I GET IT, OKAY? I was wrong. Please come home!”
I grinned at my phone. Point made.
Two days later, I walked in with Holly on my hip, eyeing the disaster.
Dishes stacked sky-high in the sink. Takeout boxes everywhere. Laundry mountain bigger.
And in the middle stood Walt — scruffy, wild-eyed, looking like sleep was a myth.
“You’re back,” he said, voice cracking with relief.
“Looks like you had a chill break,” I said, clocking his hot-mess vibe.
Walt raked a hand through his hair. “Skyler, I am so sorry. I was a total idiot.”
“Keep going,” I said, shifting Holly.
“I didn’t see how much you actually do. All day, every day.” He waved at the wreck. “I couldn’t even hold it together a week.”
“And?”
“And I was selfish and dead wrong to say staying home with Holly isn’t work. It’s harder than my job. I should’ve known.” He stepped closer, eyes begging. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded slow, letting him hang a bit.
“I missed you both bad,” he said. “House felt dead without you.”
“House is dead,” I said. “I took everything that counts.”
A tiny grin cracked his misery. “Yeah, noticed.”
I pulled a folded paper from my purse. “Here.”
Walt took it, frowning. “What’s this?”
“Chore list,” I said. “From now on, we split it all.”
His face went ghost-white. “Everything…?”
“Yup,” I said, patting his shoulder. “Since I don’t ‘work’ and all, I’m sure you’re cool doing half while I grab some real breaks.”
Walt stared at the list, swallowed hard, nodded. “Fair.”
“Glad you agree,” I said, smiling real. “Because I booked a spa day Saturday. You’re on Holly duty.”
Walt reached for our girl. “Hey, princess,” he whispered, hugging her tight. “Daddy missed you.”
Holly gurgled happy, clueless to the power flip that just dropped.
“I’ll step up,” Walt promised, looking at me over her head. “Swear.”
“You will,” I said. “Because if you ever say raising our kid isn’t real work again, I’ll take more than just her diapers next time.”
He laughed nervous. “Loud and clear.”
“Good,” I said, heading to the bedroom. “Now, I’m grabbing a shower without a tiny screamer. Think you can handle dinner?”
“I’ll make it work,” Walt said, bouncing Holly gentle.
As I walked off, I heard him whisper to her, “Your mom’s scary smart, you know? But don’t tell her — I’m already in deep.”
I grinned to myself. Lesson locked in.
