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:
Meanwhile, your husband is hailed as a hero for taking a toddler to the park for 45 minutes. (And he is a hero. But so are you. Why are you the baseline and he’s the miracle?) mutha magazine
I tried to go on strike once. A quiet one. I stopped reminding. I stopped refilling the soap dispenser. I stopped mentally tracking the expiration date on the car seat. For three days, we lived in chaos. The four-year-old wore two different rain boots. The baby ate a cracker off the floor of the bus. My husband looked at me with genuine confusion: “Why didn’t you say something?” Here’s the hard truth I’m learning at 3
And then I’m going to sit in the uncomfortable, glorious silence of not knowing. Because the goal of motherhood shouldn’t be to run the machine perfectly. It should be to burn the manual and teach everyone else how to build a new one. Why are you the baseline and he’s the miracle
My husband walked into the bathroom and asked, “Hey, what’s the plan for dinner?”
