My to-do lists before leaving for a trip — even when my three kids and husband aren’t going — are always overwhelming. There are usually a few things like “buy travel deodorant” or “order dress from Old Navy,” but it’s the list of tasks that will make things easier for everyone while I’m gone that really get me. You know, the things like “put girls’ soccer socks and jerseys together” and “make sure hair ties are with hair brush” and “place grocery order for school snacks and yogurt.”

No, I’m not leaving my kids with a nanny who doesn’t know their routine. This is how I prep to leave my husband and three daughters alone.

I know, I know, you want to shout “weaponized incompetence” at me. You want to make sure I know that this is not OK. That my husband should be able to take care of his three daughters just fine without me.

Of course he can. Me prepping to make things as easy as possible for my family while I’m gone isn’t because he can’t do it. It’s because we are a team, and we always have each other’s backs.

There seems to be this idea that one “primary” parent (usually a mom) leaving the other parent (usually a dad) to take care of the kids on their own for a few days is a test, some kind of competition. “Oh he’s really going to miss you this weekend, isn’t he?” people joke, as if that’s the only reason your spouse would notice your absence — when he has to match the kids’ socks himself. “I’d turn off my phone if I were you,” they laugh, as if your partner having a question about the library books or field trip money is some kind of special trial they must face on their own. And the kicker of “Can’t trust them, huh?” is one they say when they hear I’m trying to make simplify things for my husband while I’m out of town.

There’s a series of gross assumptions at work here: That I’m the only one who knows how to do anything for our family, and that my husband only contributes under duress, and that leaving is a chance to show him how little he knows.

Well, that’s not how we operate, because that’s not how any team operates. Sure, there’s stuff that I tend to handle, and there’s stuff he tends to handle. If I leave my co-workers for a week, I don’t just shut off my phone and say “see you on the other side.” I make sure any of my own lingering tasks are done or delegated to someone so nobody has to try and figure things out on their own. If a back-up quarterback has to take over during a game, the first quarterback doesn’t just shout “good luck” and run off the field without any advice or input. If a teacher’s assistant takes over the class for the day, they don’t have to go into it without a single lesson plan or procedure in place.

I could just sign off from work, sure, and say that my coworkers can figure it out. A QB could just run off the field and a teacher could just let the assistant who’s been in the class everyday for eight weeks handle it on their own. But that’s not part of being a team. Part of being a team is when his usual drop-off routine is interrupted by a meeting, he makes sure to still make the kids’ lunches so I don’t have to think about it. When he goes on a hunting trip for the weekend, he plugs the kids’ tablets into their chargers and tells me where their water bottles are for soccer. When he’s having a guy’s night out, he throws nuggets in the oven for me before he walks out the door. He doesn’t leave me hanging ever, because we’re a team.

So, I make outfits for all of my girls and put them in baskets. I point out to my husband where their soccer socks and shin guards are, how he’ll have to wash their jerseys after practice on Wednesday. I go ahead and prep a birthday present for the party he’s taking them to on Saturday, and I fill the fridge and freezer with all the snacks they need for school and frozen pizzas for easy dinner. With every move, my husband nods, thanks me, tells me, “I got it, babe, no worries.” I give him a new pack of hair ties so he doesn’t have to spend time in the morning searching for one. I point out the extra pacis.

I know he’s got it. And he knows I’ve got him. Because we’re a team — and teams stick together.

Samantha Darby is a Senior Lifestyle Editor at Romper and Scary Mommy and a PTA soccer mom raising three little women in the suburbs of Georgia with her husband. Her minivan is always trashed.