So what happens when one person carries the invisible weight of the family—and the other one doesn’t even notice?
So what happens when one person carries the invisible weight of the family—and the other one doesn’t even notice?
No major scandal. No shouting matches. No mid-life crisis featuring a sports car and a tattoo sleeve.
Just… tension. Distance. More sighing. Less laughing.
A growing pile of little resentments nobody talks about (surrounded by even more piles of laundry).
And eventually, the quiet realization: our marriage wasn’t struggling because we stopped loving each other. It was fraying because we were living in a system that was quietly failing us.
In our case, my wife was carrying the full mental load—every doctor’s appointment, every birthday gift, every “what’s for dinner,” every child-related detail rattling around in her brain like a live grenade. And I was blind to it.
But the more we’ve named it and worked through it, the more we’ve realized: this isn’t just a “us” problem. It’s a modern phenomenon silently wrecking intimacy and drowning marriages one “Did you remember the wipes?” at a time.
Guys, if you’ve ever caught yourself thinking, “Why is she always so irritated with me?”—this might be why. The good news? There’s a way through it. But first, you’ve gotta see it.
If you don’t know what the “mental load” is, let me explain how I learned to see it: It’s not just the doing, it’s the knowing. The noticing. The anticipating. The remembering. The planning.
It’s who schedules the birthday party and sends the invites. Who packs the snacks and extra pants. Who knows which kid has outgrown their shoes, who needs new underwear, and what time the school musical starts next Thursday.
In my case, and most cases, it’s usually the wife. But if your situation is different, you’ll still get what I mean.
It starts small. Maybe she’s nursing, so she keeps track of wake windows and feeding times. Then she’s packing the diaper bag—not because you don’t care, but because last time you forgot wipes and had to use a fast food napkin in a gas station bathroom. (Nobody wants to relive that.)
She reads up on every developmental milestone and tries to loop you in, but let’s be honest—it’s a lot. And it changes so fast, it’s easy to shrug and think, “She’s got it handled.” Maybe she stocks the house because she “has a system,” or she’s just more organized, or you’ve both just silently agreed, “You’re better at that.”
If she’s high-capacity like my wife, it seems only natural. Over time, they’re unofficially but clearly nominated as the family calendar coordinator, nutritionist, nurse, spiritual director, and snack Sherpa.
The more kids that come and the more complicated life gets—suddenly the stress starts to show.
Nobody votes on who the default parent is. It just…happens.
And by the time you notice? You’re already elbows-deep in a diaper blowout while ordering more baby Tylenol with one hand. It’s not about who loves the kids more. It’s not about roles or jobs or income. It’s about who everyone instinctively turns to—including the dog—and the pressure that creates.
My wife wasn’t just doing more tasks. She was project managing our lives. I was showing up to scenes she’d already set.
And here’s the kicker: I thought I was being helpful.
“Just Tell Me What You Need”
For years, I thought I was pulling my weight. I did dishes. Took the kids to school. Switched laundry. I was engaged. Present. Not the stereotypical checked-out dad.
But whenever I said, “Just tell me what you need,” I was handing her another job: to notice, to delegate, to manage me. I was unintentionally reinforcing a pattern where she carried the full weight of responsibility, and I hovered nearby, ready to assist—like an intern instead of a partner.
Over time, it wore her down. And it drove a wedge between us. Not because I was a bad person, but because we were acting out a script we never chose.
Where did that script come from?
The Rise of the “Default Parent”
To understand the default parent dynamic, you have to go back. Not just to your own childhood, but to the decades that shaped modern family life.
After World War II (I know every husband’s ears just perked up with a war analogy), America entered a season of unparalleled prosperity. Manufacturing exploded. Suburbs multiplied. And advertisers sold the world a new dream: the nuclear family.
One breadwinner father. One homemaker mother. It was like living in a Norman Rockwell painting. The kids, the car, the white picket fence.
It was shiny and well-marketed. But it was also completely new. And financially, emotionally and relationally unsustainable.
(NOTE: If your family looks like this, no judgment! If it’s working for you, fantastic. The point isn’t that it’s morally bad, but just that for the vast majority of people, it isn’t possible! Whatever your family looks like, keep reading.)
For most of human history, families worked together. Farms, shops, and households were interdependent. Everyone contributed. The home wasn’t a refuge from work—it was the work.
Then came the Industrial Revolution. Men left home to earn wages in factories and then in offices. Women stayed behind to manage the household. Like the factory line, the labor of family life was divided into specializations, external and paid vs. internal and invisible. But this was a total left turn! If you look back even a few hundred years, all parenting resources were written for fathers rather than mothers.
But after WWII, that split became gospel. The 1950s baked in a model where men were providers and women were everything else. And for a brief couple of decades, it kind of worked—at least for the people it served (namely, white middle-class Americans).
But here’s the thing: that version of family was a historical blip. A product of temporary postwar wealth and Cold War conformity, not a timeless ideal. Or a biblical mandate.
The Model Broke. We’re Still Living in It.
Today, most families can’t survive on a single income. Most women pursue goals, vocations, and dreams. And most men I know genuinely want to be more than distant, disengaged fathers, or default to it because they haven’t seen a better model. The reality is that most of us are way more engaged in the home than our parents, but there’s still miles to cover before we truly share the load with our spouses.
And even though the world changed, the mental scripts didn’t.
Research backs this up. A 2023 Pew study found that even in dual-income households, mothers overwhelmingly carry the invisible labor. Nearly 80% of moms say they’re the default parent—the one managing schedules, logistics, and emotional needs.
Even more revealing: in that same study, only 45% of fathers perceived themselves the same way. There’s a disconnect.
And that disconnect is breaking us.
If you’re in a relationship where one of you stays home—that’s awesome. That’s not second-tier or old-school. That’s holy ground. But even then, the parent who stays home can slowly become “The One Who Knows Everything,” and the other? Can sometimes fumble through the basics like a backup babysitter.
Now, look, it makes sense that if one of you is with the kids 80% of the time, you’ve got more reps in. Totally logical. But the Default Parent dynamic doesn’t care about logic—it just quietly builds a gap that can feel like distance.
Here’s the tension: the hours don’t have to be equal, but the ownership should be. You may clock 40, 50, 60 hours outside the house, and your spouse is putting in the same grind at home—but that doesn’t mean one of you gets to coast as a parent.
It’s not about perfectly splitting the tasks. Or being 50/50. It’s about both of you being fully in and having a system where both of you can thrive.
It’s about being able to tag in without asking 19 questions and show your kids that both of you are the safe place, the solution-finder, the trusted grown-up on the same team with the other. It’s making sure one parent isn’t drowning in the logistics of running a family.
The Quiet Cost of the Mental Load
When one partner carries the full mental weight of the home, it doesn’t just lead to stress. It leads to isolation. One person becomes the go-to, the manager, the brain trust of the entire household—and the other floats, unsure how to plug in, slowly sidelined.
The kids always go to them. Their list of household to-dos is never-ending. Your spontaneous schedule changes that seem innocent create a cascade of adjustments that the other parent has to make.
This isn’t about competence. It’s about ownership. And genuine partnership. It’s about one person being expected to see everything that needs doing—and another being praised for stepping in “to help.”
And if you follow Jesus, here’s something wild that might surprise you: God didn’t create Eve to be Adam’s “helper” like she were a sidekick or assistant. The Hebrew word for “helper” is “ezer kenegdo,” which means “equal warrior.” Side by side. Same mission. That’s the picture. (Plus, God himself is described as “helper” throughout Scripture using the same word, so it’s a pretty high calling.)
And if we’re really called to love like Jesus? Then husbands, we’re supposed to lay our lives down—not casually keep scrolling while she keeps the ship running.
The mental load isn’t just unfair—it’s unsustainable.
That’s what we learned. The hard way.
What Changed for Us
I wish I could say I had a lightbulb moment and everything flipped overnight. But it was slower than that.
It started with Rachel naming it. Not in anger, but in exhaustion. She described what it felt like to be responsible for all the invisible gears that kept our lives turning.
And for the first time, I really heard her.
I started to notice the things I’d never seen. Started owning whole categories of our lives, not just completing assigned tasks. I had to rebuild my muscle for planning, anticipating, managing—not just reacting.
Now, of course, in every relationship, there are just things you’re naturally better at—and things that are… not in your wheelhouse. That’s normal. You don’t both have to be amazing at everything. But if you want to relieve the mental load and actually operate as partners, you’ve got to look at what you can bring to the table and start owning it.
For me? I’m not the best at noticing everything. I’m not scanning the room thinking about who needs homework signed or if it’s Wacky Hat Wednesday. But I can be the anchor—the consistent guy who knocks out the unchanging, everyday stuff. In the mornings, I’m on breakfast, teeth brushing, sock-finding, and shoe-wrangling duty. That frees up her brain to tackle all the unpredictable curveballs of the day—like “Is this the day one of our kids gets hives from lunch?” or “Who needs to try their spelling words one more time before school?”
I’m still learning new ways to lift the weight, but one of the easiest, most helpful things I could do right away? I cook. Every day. Breakfast and dinner. Same time, on the table, no asking. It clears her mental space to focus on other stuff without worrying whether the kids are about to eat string cheese and ketchup.
When we had babies, I watched them one day a week while she was at work. This was critical for me to learn how to fully care for our kids without texting her every 12 minutes. Now that we have school-aged kids, we started something we call “Mommy Night” (that we heard from our pastor, Kyle). From 3–8 pm, once a week, she’s off. No dinner duty, no bedtime chaos, no explaining where we keep the extra wipes. Usually, she uses it to catch up on logistics or meal planning. Sometimes she actually gets to do something fun (imagine that). Either way, she gets space—and I get reps.
Because here’s the deal: parenting shouldn’t be one of you playing starter and the other stuck in the role of “substitute when necessary.” You’re both so needed. The kids need to see both of you engaged—not in the same way, but in equally present and capable ways. And you? You need to feel the weight—it’s not punishment, or even balancing—it’s strengthening and empowering.
It’s still a work in progress, but our marriage is completely different. Better and deeper on every level.
What About You?
If you’re raising kids with someone, I want to invite you to ask a hard question: Who’s carrying the weight?
Not just the visible stuff—but the remembering, the planning, the worry, the stress.
If your partner is the default parent, you might not see it. That’s the nature of invisible labor. But if you start asking, listening, and leaning in—you might just find a new level of connection waiting on the other side.
Whether you both work or not, ask a few questions:
Have I checked the Default Parent’s stress level lately? Like really? Are we on the same page about our kids right now? How to discipline? Who needs what? Are there any categories I could own so they have more mental space and we share more healthy ownership of our family?
Because the truth is, this isn’t about gender roles. It’s about two competent parents raising their family together. Uniquely, in whatever way works for you, but competently. Training their kids that both parents are fully engaged, fully capable, and thriving as a team.
It’s about wholeness. It’s about love. And love doesn’t watch someone drown and offer them a towel. Love gets in the water.
*Still not sure whether you’re the Backup Parent? Try the quiz below.
QUIZ: Are You the Default Parent?
(Spoiler alert: if you’re reading this on your phone while a child climbs you like a jungle gym… you already know.)
Answer YES or NO to each of the following:
👶 The Kid Stuff
- Do you know what size diapers your kid wears—without checking?
- Have you ever cut grapes into fourths because you heard it’s safer?
- Can you locate your child’s favorite stuffed animal in the dark, under pressure?
- Did the daycare, pediatrician, or grandma text you first?
🧠 The Mental Load
- Do you mentally track when the next nap, snack, or meltdown is due like it’s NASA data?
- Are you the one who knows when the next birthday party is and if the gift is already wrapped?
- Did you remember Spirit Week, library books, and sunscreen—because no one else would?
🏠 The Household Stuff
- Do you refill the baby Tylenol, Goldfish crackers, and wipes?
- Is your default Google search something like “rash on toddler butt won’t go away”?
- Do you have a color-coded calendar system that no one else fully respects or understands?
Bonus Round:
- Have you ever been out of the house for one hour, gotten three “Where is…?” texts, and come home to a toddler in pajamas, eating mayonnaise with a fork?
🔥 YOUR SCORE 🔥
0–3 YES: Congrats, you may be the Back-Up Parent. Your relationship with your kids and spouse will grow the more you lean into picking up more of the weight of the household.
4–7 YES: Welcome to the club. You’re doing two people’s worth of remembering. 🧠Need another coffee yet?
8–10 YES: You, my friend, are the Default Parent. Please accept this invisible medal, sip your lukewarm coffee, and kindly tell someone you need help.
11+ YES: You might actually be…both parents.
Parenting is an adventure—but you don’t have to go at it alone. Check out one of our Cohorts and join a community of people learning how to raise kids and follow God’s example of parenthood.
Disclaimer: This article is 100% human-generated.
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At Crossroads, we major on the majors and minor on the minors. We welcome a diverse community of people who all agree that Jesus is Lord and Savior, even if they view minor theological and faith topics in different ways based on their unique experiences. Our various authors embody that principle, and we approach you, our reader, in the same fashion. You don’t have to agree with every detail of any article you see here to be part of this community or pursue faith. Chances are even our whole staff doesn’t even agree with every detail of what you just read. We are okay with that tension. And we think God is okay with that, too. The foundation of everything we do is a conviction that the Bible is true and that accepting Jesus is who he said he is leads to a healthy life of purpose and adventure—and eternal life with God.
