Jason is popular.  Guys at work think he is fun, clever and reliable.  "A great guy!" they all proclaim.  Family friends say the same.  On his street the neighbors like him, too.  They would add, "Jason is the kinda guy who will drop everything to help you out."  

Everywhere you go, the opinion of Jason is similar: easy-going, caring, and fun to be with.  Everywhere except at home. 

His wife and kids see all of the fun and light-heartedness in Jason, too.  But they are confused about why he shows it so much to outsiders and so little to them.  Because at home, behind closed doors, they mostly know a different Jason. 

At home he is hard to please, critical and controlling.  He can be a tyrant.  Some days he seems to come home mad and looking for a fight.  He scares his wife and kids.  They are afraid of how loud he can get, or his swearing, or that he might hit them.   He doesn’t do it all of the time.  But he can turn in an instant from Dad-Who-Is-Cool to Dad-Who-Is-Whacked-Out.

Uh-oh. Here He Comes

Towards the end of the workday, say an hour before Jason is due to arrive home, his wife Nicole starts to feel pressure in her chest.  She is uneasy about Jason's return.  Jason says he likes his job, but he comes home in a bad mood more often than not.  So about 4:00 each weekday afternoon Nicole scurries around the house to make sure it looks perfect.  Then she coaches her two children not to make any messes, or any noise.  "Don’t upset your father.  He works so hard at his job."
And the daily fearful countdown is on.  In a few minutes they hear the rumble of his truck turning into the driveway.  They all react the same way: Their breathing gets shallow, and quivery fear jangles around in their gut.  Nobody says it, but they all feel it—Nicole, Aden, who is 8, and Emily who is almost 6.  In the moments just before Jason comes through the door they feel exactly the way they would if they were walking down a dark street in a high crime area.

They hear his footsteps and their fear spikes.  But they try to look relaxed and glad to see him.  Jason opens the door and steps inside the kitchen.  Nicole figured out years ago that he wants her to be right there, ready to give him her full attention, from the second he arrives.  So she does.  She is always trying to guess what he wants and give it to him. 

Nicole puts on a high-beam smile and a big, enthusiastic hug of welcome.  She hopes she can lift him up and quickly, gently steer him to be softer and quieter and, well, less scary.  Less dangerous.  She tries to make it so that there will be nothing for him to complain about.  Nothing to be unhappy about—so then he will be happy. 
But Jason never steps in the door and says, "I am so glad to see you and the kids.  And you have the house looking so nice.  Thank you for that, dear."  Not once. 

Nicole doesn't like things the way they are, but she has no idea of how to change them.  She tries to smooth out the way for him, to make his world as problem-free as she can.
 
But of course that doesn't work, does it?