In our family, Dad was always absorbed in his work, while Mom managed the house. My brother and I often felt overlooked, almost like we were invisible. But one day, we decided things needed to change, and we were determined to get Dad to see the way we were living. Little did we know, that decision would turn our household upside down.
Have you ever felt unseen in your own home? Like the person you look up to hardly acknowledges your presence? That was my reality for as long as I could remember. I’m Irene, and this is the story of how my brother Josh and I helped our workaholic dad realize what was happening around him.
It was an ordinary Tuesday evening. I was sitting at the kitchen table, struggling with math homework, while Josh lay on the living room floor, engrossed in his comic book. As the clock approached 6 p.m., Dad came home, just like he did every day.
He walked in, looking the same as always—briefcase in hand, tie slightly loosened, offering us a quick “Hey” before immediately calling out, “Mariam! Where’s dinner?”
Mom rushed out of the laundry room, balancing a basket full of clothes. “Just finishing up, Carl. It’ll be ready soon,” she replied, clearly exhausted from the day.
Without another word, Dad kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the PlayStation. In moments, the sound of racing cars filled the room. No “How was your day?” No asking how we were doing. It was just Dad and his game.
Josh rolled his eyes at me, and I nodded in agreement. This was our usual routine, but that didn’t make it any less painful.
The next day, it got worse. As I was setting the table, I overheard Dad complaining again. “Mariam, why is this place always so dusty? Do you ever clean in here?”
Peeking around the corner, I saw him holding up one of his car magazines, frowning like it was a personal insult. Mom stood nearby, visibly worn out.
“Carl, I’ve been working all day, and—”
“Working? I work too, but I still expect a clean house when I get home,” he interrupted.
That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. Mom worked just as hard as he did, if not harder, taking care of the house, preparing meals, and raising us. And yet, here was Dad, acting like it wasn’t enough.
“We need to do something,” I told Josh later that night.
“About what?” he asked, munching on a snack.
“Dad. He’s not treating Mom fairly, and he acts like we don’t even exist. It’s time he understands what that feels like.”
Josh’s face lit up. “I’m in. What’s the plan?”
We quickly came up with an idea. The next day, we convinced Mom to take a well-deserved break. She was hesitant but eventually agreed to spend a day at the spa.
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