“I go hunting. This is a picture of me hunting tonight. No guns. No animals. But I promise you, I am hunting. Let me explain…
When I met my husband nine years ago, he told me right away that he hunted. He explained that in his past relationships, girlfriends hadn’t always understood or appreciated the time he spent in the field, so he wanted to be upfront with me. I assured him I understood, and then I confessed something of my own—I don’t cook, and I never want to. That’s a story for another time…
Since then, life has been a beautiful, chaotic journey. We got married, both graduated from law school, and welcomed three amazing children into our lives. I’ll be honest: hunting wasn’t always easy for me, especially once the kids arrived. The seasons—dove, deer, duck, turkey—meant long stretches of being alone with the little ones. There were moments that felt exhausting, moments when I questioned if we’d ever find our rhythm. It took nearly three years for us to strike a balance, to really understand each other’s needs.
The past couple of years have been different. We’ve learned the art of compromise. A big part of that change came when I started my own version of hunting—not the kind Adam does, not with guns or the outdoors. My hunting happens on weekends, after he returns home. I tell him it’s my turn to hunt, and that usually means retreating to the bedroom with a book, binge-watching a show, going out to dinner with a friend, or taking one of our three babies on a special little date.
Even during the week, when exhaustion hits hard, Adam steps in. Some nights, I walk in the door utterly worn out, and he has dinner ready. I might clean up the dishes, and then we share baby baths and bedtime routines. But there are nights—once or twice a month—when I just declare, ‘I’m going hunting,’ and everything is completely taken care of. He smiles, nods, and lets me escape without a single question.
Tonight, for example, I’m in the bath with a book, planning to go to bed early. The kids are fed, bathed, stories read, tucked in. The dishes are done. The house hums with calm. I can just be. And it feels incredible.
I think so often, moms get swallowed up by the endless care of babies, husbands, and homes. We forget that it’s okay—necessary even—to carve out time for ourselves. Ladies, find your hunting ground, whatever it looks like. And husbands, support it. Let your wives hunt, read, or play video games—the hobby that gives her a little breathing room while she nurtures your family.
I love my husband. I adore my babies. I value my work. But I also treasure my hunting. And that, sometimes, is exactly what keeps everything else running smoothly.”
