Dearest husband, I love you. I really do. 

I know the world is in chaos right now and there is far more unknown than you are comfortable with. I know you feel the pressure of providing for us in a climate that doesn’t promise next week’s paycheck. I know you want to make sure your job is done and your family is protected. I know you’re working hard and trying to adapt to the waves and lurches that are the daily proclamations and amendments this pandemic is causing. 

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But dear, you’ve stepped into my office now, and honey, I’ve got this. 

Our home, this home, your temporary workspacethis is my domain. 

Your laptop set up at our kitchen table means you’re officing out of my world now.

I’ve run this ship for years. I know the routines that help us run efficiently. I know when I can unload the dishwasher while the kids are distracted or resting. I know the best time to check the mail. I know how to make this place run on time and how to get the best possible output from myself. 

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And dear, you’re kind of in my way. 

I know you’re used to your office schedule. By all means, keep it. Lunch when you’re accustomed to. Break when you usually do. But we, your family, are not your co-workers and having you home doesn’t suddenly shift the rhythms of our normal day. We’ll eat when we’re accustomed to. We’ll watch Ellen when we usually do.

I will continue the work I do so well, here in our home, in the way I’ve taken so long to master. 

It’s not a slight to you, dear husband, when I tell you I don’t need your help. It’s not an opinion of your worth or a question of your wisdom. I’m not disrespecting you or missing your value as husband and father. It’s just that, my dear, I’ve got this. 

I know what I’m doing. 

I’ve put in the work. I’ve cried the tears, tested the schedules. I know who wants what sandwich and in what order the toys should be played with. This home is my boardroom, and I know just how to run it in the most efficient way. I’ve been there, done that, and baby, you’re in my way of getting it done now. 

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I love you, dear, I really do. I’m happy to see your face more often, and I’m so very grateful for your help and hard work. But just as I’m not leaning over your shoulder, advising you on emails or conference calls, please understand that when it comes to running the house, I’ve got this. 

This is my calling, my role, my well-earned expertise.

This is what I know. This is what I do. And while I appreciate your insight and trust your wisdom, darling, I really just do not need it. 

I see the same chores and behaviors you do. I feel the same afternoon slump you do. I feel the irritation and interruptions that you do. I work here every day, remember? But instead of commenting or criticizing, my dear, just realize that I’ve got this. 

I’ve been home a lot longer than you have. I’ve got this routine down, know our places, and have practiced many times before. We’re not flailing about in need of orderunless flailing is what I’ve determined through experience is what works best for us. I’m in the zone, in my element, and honey, I’ve got this.

Jennifer Vail

Jennifer is married to the very handsome man she's loved half her life, with whom she juggles 3 hilarious, quirky, sometimes-difficult-but-always-worth-the-work kids. She is passionate about people and 90's pop culture, can't go a week without TexMex, and maintains the controversial belief that Han shot first. She holds degrees in counseling and general ministries, writes at This Undeserved Life, and can often be found staying up too late but rarely found folding laundry.