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 readers know the stats. We know that mothers still do triple the amount of “cognitive labor” as fathers. But let’s stop calling it that. “Cognitive labor” sounds like a white paper. Let’s call it what it is:
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?”
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.
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:
