So tonight, when my husband asks, “What’s for dinner?” I’m going to try something radical. I’m going to say, “I don’t know. What are you making?”
And I snapped. Not because he asked. But because in that moment, I realized he had the luxury of asking. He was a user logging into the system. I was the system. mutha magazine
Here’s the hard truth I’m learning at 3 AM, while scrolling my phone in the dark, hiding from my own family so I can have 10 minutes of silence: So tonight, when my husband asks, “What’s for dinner
It’s the ghost that lives in your skull, whispering reminders during sex. It’s the spreadsheet you run while you’re trying to enjoy a glass of wine. It’s the fact that I can tell you, without looking, that we have 11 wipes left, but I cannot tell you the last time I finished a thought. Not because he asked
The only way out isn’t a chore chart. Chore charts are just another thing for us to manage. The only way out is to stop being the server. To let the Wi-Fi crash. To let someone else reboot the router.
The cruelty of the default parent role isn’t the exhaustion. It’s the of the work. Because if you do your job perfectly, no one notices. The kids get to school. The socks match. The prescription is filled. The silence of success is the absence of crisis. And in that silence, the world tells you: See? It’s not that hard. You’re just relaxing.