My Mom Discovered My Wife Was Treating Me as a Housekeeper Because I Work Remotely and Made Her Rethink Her Actions

I never thought working from home would turn me into my wife’s full-time servant. For three years, I juggled a career, childcare, and household chores, until my mom stepped in—and everything changed in ways I never expected.

“I never imagined working from home would turn me into Ruby’s full-time servant,” I muttered, scrubbing dishes while answering emails.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When we got married, everything seemed equally split between us. But now, with the twins and her job, things had changed.

Ruby gave birth to our twin boys three years ago. She spent two months at home before rushing back to work, eager to continue building her career. It made sense at first. Ruby’s job was demanding, and I had the flexibility to work from home, so I took on childcare.

“I can handle this,” I had told myself. “It’s temporary, and Ruby will help once things settle down.”

But nothing settled down.

In those first few months, I did more than just watch the kids. I fed them, changed diapers, and cleaned up messes. Ruby would come home exhausted, drop her bag by the door, and collapse on the couch.

“I’m beat,” she’d sigh. “Can you handle dinner?”

“Sure,” I’d say, juggling the boys and cooking. It wasn’t ideal, but I figured, why not? She was tired from work, and I was already home.

As time passed, though, I noticed Ruby wasn’t just tired. She seemed to expect that everything at home would be handled. I wasn’t just a father anymore—I was the cook, the cleaner, and the errand runner.

“Can you pick up my dry cleaning?” she’d ask, heading out the door.

“Did you start the laundry?” she’d say over the phone while at work.

The boys eventually started kindergarten, and I thought, “Finally, I’ll get a break.” But Ruby still saw me as the person responsible for everything at home. It didn’t matter that I worked full-time too.

One night, I brought it up.

“Ruby,” I said, sitting next to her after the kids had gone to bed. “I think we need to divide the chores a bit better. I’m working too, and I can’t do everything by myself.”

She looked up from her phone, frowning slightly. “But you’re home all day,” she said. “You have time to do these things.”

I felt a sharp sting of frustration. “I’m working, too,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “It’s not just about being at home. I need some help.”

Ruby sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m exhausted when I get home. My job takes everything out of me. Can’t you just keep managing it for now?”

I didn’t argue. I let it go. But inside, I was fuming. How could she not see that I was exhausted too? I didn’t want to live in a messy house, so I kept up with the chores, but it was wearing me down.

It wasn’t just the housework. I missed my friends. I hadn’t gone out in months. If I wasn’t working, I was either cleaning or taking care of the kids. My life was shrinking, and Ruby didn’t seem to notice.

The breaking point came when my mom unexpectedly dropped by one afternoon. She never visited during the week, but she had made lasagna and thought I might like some.

When she walked into the house, I was in the middle of cooking dinner, folding laundry, and trying to answer a work email. She watched me for a moment, her eyes narrowing.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, her voice full of surprise.

“Just the usual,” I replied, trying to smile. “Cooking, cleaning, working. The usual.”

Mom put the lasagna down on the counter and stared at me. “Do you do this all the time?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Ruby’s really busy with work, so I handle most of the house stuff.”

Her brow furrowed. “This isn’t right. You’re working too. You shouldn’t be doing everything.”

I shrugged, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I don’t mind it, Mom. But it’s getting hard. I haven’t seen my friends in months. I’m exhausted.”

Mom’s expression changed. There was a fire in her eyes now. “This has gone too far. I know exactly what needs to be done.”

Before I could respond, she was already grabbing her phone.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she said, her voice firm.

The next day, Ruby called me at work. Her voice was shaking with anger.

Ruby’s angry voice buzzed through the phone. “How could you do this to me?! I have yoga, a waxing appointment, and a manicure scheduled!”

I blinked, unsure of what was happening. “What are you talking about?”

“My weekend! Your mother showed up out of nowhere this morning and said I’m on my own with the kids. She said you needed a break.”

I froze. Mom hadn’t mentioned her plan. “Wait, she what?”

“She’s taking you to a spa with your friends for the weekend,” Ruby snapped, her voice rising. “I don’t have time for this, and now she’s left me with everything!”

I could hear the frustration in her tone, but underneath it was something else—something closer to panic.

Before I could respond, I heard a rustling sound on the other end of the line. Then, my mother’s voice cut through.

“Ruby, you’ve been taking advantage of him for too long,” Mom said, her voice calm but firm. “Why do you think your time is more valuable than his? He works full-time, just like you. And yet, he does everything around the house. That ends now.”

There was a pause. Ruby didn’t reply at first. I could imagine her standing there, stunned, not knowing how to respond.

“Mom—” I started, but she cut me off.