I found myself sprawled on the couch, engrossed in my phone when my partner, Sarah, posed a question. When I finally looked up, her irritation was palpable. It turned out she had already asked the same thing twice, and my distracted response to a nuanced question had left her feeling unheard.
She was inquiring about our upcoming weekend getaway, but there I was, half-listening while attempting to respond to a message from one of my colleagues. Earlier, I had been busy scheduling posts on my work-related social media. None of it was urgent, but the nagging urge to finish tasks at home so I could hit the sack a bit earlier was overwhelming.
I glanced at Sarah. Her expression was tight, one hand resting on her hip. Guilt washed over me, prompting me to set my phone aside. “Sorry,” I muttered, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, I heard you.” I said this with a level of sincerity that was likely unconvincing.
This scenario is all too familiar. Often, Sarah catches me off guard with a pop quiz about what she just said, and I can never quite recall the details. My interactions with our kids aren’t much better either. The phrase “Put your phone down, Dad!” has become a common refrain in our home, and my affirmative grunts in response have lost all credibility.
This time, however, Sarah didn’t quiz me. Instead, she sat beside me, looked me in the eye, and said, “When you don’t listen to me, it feels like you’re saying I don’t matter.”
Silence hung in the air. I exhaled slowly, reflecting on the constant tug-of-war between my professional obligations and family life. My job at a Division I athletics program often requires late evenings filled with tutoring and meetings. Though I can’t always be at my desk, the expectation of being readily available for urgent matters keeps my phone within arm’s reach. The result? I often find myself unable to resist replying to every text, regardless of its urgency, and this has become a significant issue at home.
I like to think I’m adept at multitasking as a working parent, but the truth is, I’m usually only half-present at either my job or with my family. My face buried in my phone while attempting to engage with my kids has turned me into a less-than-ideal father and partner.
I can’t be the only one experiencing this struggle. Like many working parents, I often find it hard to admit when I’m not being a good listener. It wasn’t until Sarah called me out on it that I truly considered what my inattentiveness communicated to her.
Listening is an essential aspect of any relationship. It validates our partners and shows them they matter. Yet, despite my understanding of this, I still grapple with the distractions that prevent me from truly tuning in.
When I step back and view the situation objectively, it becomes clear that I was ignoring the woman I’ve loved for over 14 years—the mother of our children—and that’s undeniably rude.
So, I stood up, placed my phone across the room, and turned on the ringer so I could hear any important calls without being constantly drawn back into my digital world. I settled back down next to her and apologized sincerely. “I didn’t mean to convey that I wasn’t listening.”
I won’t claim that Sarah fully forgave me in that moment, nor do I believe I’ll never fall into this trap again. However, what I can say is that during our conversation, I made a genuine effort to give her my undivided attention—because she absolutely deserves it.
If you’re navigating similar challenges, consider checking out resources like Facts About Fertility, which offers valuable insights on balancing work and family life. And if you’re interested in enhancing your family journey, explore options at Make a Mom.
Summary
As a working parent, the struggle to balance professional responsibilities and family life can often lead to feelings of inadequacy. The constant pull of work distractions can detract from meaningful interactions with loved ones. Acknowledging the importance of attentive listening and setting boundaries around technology are crucial steps toward fostering stronger relationships at home.
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