In my household, the holiday season feels particularly inequitable. Between September and October, I was already juggling childcare, meal planning, and the stress of work, all while trying to manage my daughter’s orthodontic appointments. And as if that wasn’t enough, my babysitter decided to leave in mid-November, adding “resolve childcare crisis” to my ever-growing to-do list.
Then, the holiday rush began. Suddenly, I’m faced with shopping for gifts, wrapping them, attending various parties, coordinating schedules, and ensuring that one child has new tights for her recital while the other needs a freshly ironed shirt.
So, how much of this has my husband thought about? Let’s just say it’s a big fat zero.
The gifts we need to purchase—while trying to cut back on materialism in light of the world’s chaos—are manageable until you factor in the extras. I’m not just talking about the gifts for our kids, grandparents, and close friends, which I can handle. It’s the obligatory gifts for teachers, the piano instructor, and the friendly guy at the gym who lets me in when I forget my membership card that really push me over the edge.
At least I don’t have to worry about yard duties or doormen, which saves me from additional obligations. Even if I decide to skip some of these gifting customs—due to dwindling financial and emotional resources—I still find myself stressed over where to draw the line.
How much time do the men in my life spend pondering the boundaries of holiday giving? The struggle of deciding whether to gift our long-time piano teacher versus the new karate instructor? Your guess is as good as mine—let’s just say it’s zero.
I also enjoy selecting our holiday cards, choosing pictures that respect my husband’s Jewish heritage while capturing our family’s essence, but that doesn’t come without its own set of stresses. The panic doesn’t truly kick in until the card box arrives. I can never find stamps, and I have no one’s addresses. I’m not tech-savvy enough to figure out a mail merge, so I resort to handwriting cards from our wedding list, fully aware that many recipients have moved in the eight years since. And forget about festive stamps; it’s American Flag stamps or nothing.
Amidst the chaos of cookie parties and holiday gatherings, I’m tasked with baking a dozen homemade cookies, which makes me want to curl up in a ball. I don’t have a “signature” cookie recipe—my go-to dessert is ice cream, which I hide in the freezer to keep it all for myself.
How many cookie parties has my husband been invited to? You guessed it—zero.
He’s also blissfully unaware of the special brand of chaos that is the cookie-decorating party, where kids cry over their ruined creations while parents force small talk with each other, all in the name of holiday cheer. It’s enough to drive anyone to drink.
When I mention my exhaustion and the migraines that have plagued me since Thanksgiving, my husband laughs, oblivious to the reality of my December. He sees a few extra tasks on the calendar and wonders why I’m so frazzled. I just hold up my hand, forming a circle with my fingers, and whisper, “zero.”
This time of year is overwhelming, but it’s also a reminder of the resilience we have as we navigate through it all.
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Summary: The holiday season often brings added stress for many, particularly when one partner takes on the majority of the responsibilities. This article humorously explores the imbalance in holiday planning and gift-giving, highlighting the overwhelming tasks that often fall to one parent, while the other remains blissfully unaware.