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Complaining about my day with the kids = disrespecting my husband

alec vanderboom

I posted a scene from Fireproof that really flipped me out last week. When I watch the scene first "fight scene" in Fireproof, I think the wife is acting perfectly fine for the first two minutes. I would actually say she's being pretty "mild". On a daily basis, (especially during  pregnancy and this colic thing) I am WAY more irritable with my husband.

But her 'nagging' complaints hurt her husband. She's throwing punches in their marriage without even realizing it.

My chronic complaining about my hard days are a form of disrespect to my husband. It wears on him. I'm not coming to him, asking him to pray for me to have more energy and peace. I'm not asking him to problem solve a specific aspect of my parenting.

For the past seven years, my poor husband walks into the door at 6 PM he gets a litany of how my day sucked as a stay-at-home mom and why this job of raising his kids is so impossible. It really sobered me when I thought about how it would be if I was a paid babysitter watching his children, instead of his wife. Would my husband feel good if every day, a babysitter constantly complained about tiny "mistakes" his children made during the day?

My bitterness is really harmful. I hadn't realized that chronic complaining about my kids was disrespecting my husband because they are also his kids. The greatest act of love I do for him on a daily basis is breastfeed Baby Abigail, watch toddler Tess and homeschool Hannah, Alex and Maria. As a wife I wouldn't think it was okay to constantly complain "Do you know that I had to wash your dress shirts AND hang them up on the hanger to dry. Oh, AND I found a black sock on the floor? Can't you get them into the laundry basket?"

Yet in my head it was okay to say at 6:02 PM, (right after my husband walks into the door) "Did you know that Maria broke her goggles today! The Speedo ones that cost $14! She left them on the bathroom floor--after I told her not too-- and I stepped on them! Can you believe her!" in an irritated tone that would peel paint.

So for Father's Day, I'm giving up complaining. I'm leaning on the deep breaths of patience and prayer instead. I'll keep you posted.