I love you very much and that is why I decided to write you this letter. Everything that I stated in it is difficult for me to say verbally, so I chose the written method.
Dear wife, I want to tell you that you are a super woman. Super - in the truest sense of the word. The most important thing for you is the house and the children, and I must admit, I sincerely thank you for it. You fully give yourself to the family and the upbringing of our children.
Our house always shines with cleanliness, the floors mirror the surfaces, nowhere is there any dust particles in the cabinets, immaculate order reigns, a tasty lunch is on the stove, and the three-story cake is already waiting in the oven. Our children are the best students in the school because you control their every step, check the lessons, take them and take them to classes, accompany you to the circles and have good contacts with all the teachers.
When I come home from work, I have to evaluate how you cleaned the sofa immaculately, vacuumed the carpet, smoothed a pile of linen, prepared a natural history report with your younger son and cooked borscht using a new recipe. You tell me how much time and effort it takes for you to clean, cook, restore order and keep children under control. You reproach me for leaving dirty footprints in the hallway again, for not putting my shoes in place and putting a washed cup after dinner in the wrong order. You are tired. You are exhausted. You want to rest.
My dear, I understand you perfectly! I understand what spiritual and physical investments you give to everything that you do for us. But, think, is it worth it? Honestly, I would rather see a woman next to me who is not particularly worried about the order of arrangement of the plates in size and cleanliness of the kitchen sink. I do not need sophisticated dishes, cooked according to zabubennym recipes, perfectly ironed shirts and whitening white bathroom - such that it is scary to touch anything so as not to get dirty.
And, of course, our children. Of course, they need control and attention, but maybe it is worth loosening their grip a bit and giving them a bit of independence? They are perfectly able to do the lessons themselves, go to school unaccompanied, make their beds and collect the briefcase for tomorrow.
I would very much like to go back home and hear from my wife not a report on regular cutlets, washed floors and written essays. I would like to talk about my troubles at work, share a ridiculous case that happened with a colleague, listen to how our children themselves crawl through the thorns of knowledge, and ask how you are doing.
And I madly want you to tell me about what dream you had, what interesting book you read, how much interesting and funny you saw with the children on the street, and how sad you became when I stayed at work. I would really like to hear it from you, but for some reason, our conversations always revolve around cleaning, lessons, soup and clean shirts.
Maybe, nevertheless, you will hear me and allow yourself to be at least a little bit not perfect? Then, it seems to me, it will become much more interesting and easier for all of us to live. "