It’s just that traditional feminine roles are…fucking BRUTAL, son. BRUTAL. 24 hours a day, all day, every day, with no rest, no relaxation, sleep deprivation…it’s fucking intense. For example…your son is almost two and he’s started having night terrors, as most do at this age. He’s currently sharing a room with your 3 year old, so when the two year old wakes up screaming at 2:37am, this means the 3 year old wakes up, as well. You finally get them both back to sleep around 4am, and you just bring the 2 year old to bed with you. Your husband is snoring, so you have trouble going back to sleep, and the two year old kicks soooo much. You drift off around 6, and the 45 mins of sleep you get is worse then nothing because when the 3 year old wakes you up at 7, your eyes feel like they’re being dragged into shreds by sandpaper eyelids. This has been going on for a little over 3 years now. Your Fit-Watch has you at an average of 4 hours of sleep per night, and your sleep score is 32. It’s been this way for 3 years. Nonetheless! You start pounding coffee while you dress the 3 year old. The morning begins with a fight. He wants to wear the puppy shirt. The baby vomited on the puppy shirt yesterday, though. Ok! Redirect! “Oh, the puppies are still sleeping and they’re so yucky…they’re taking a morning bath! Let’s pick…how about the DINOSAUR shirt, or the BASEBALL shirt?” The 3 year old’s lip begins to quiver. “Puuuuupppppies!!!!” “HEY BUDDY, will you please wear me today? I miss you and I want to go out!” You make the dinosaur shirt talk and plead. Just as the 3 year old begins to slowly smile, you hear a cry from the other room. Fuck fuck fuck. You run to get the baby before he wakes up your husband. Unfortunately, the 3 year old begins to sob because his dinosaur shirt abruptly stopped speaking. You’re so tired you see the floor dip and you almost fall while stumbling in the early morning light to go get the baby. This is the first 10 minutes of your day. Wait until they start fighting because one didn’t high five the snowman. This is all day, every day, non stop, 24/7. It’s just that working is so, so, so, so much fucking easier. You get lunch breaks and bathroom breaks and you can talk to adults. You are taking the kids to the slides today. You have to make breakfast so you have the 3 year old “help,” but when you turn around after beating the eggs, he’s removes ALL of the pots and pans instead of the pan and spatula you gave him. Now the kitchen floor is strewn with pots and pans. The two year old has started yelling “AD!AD!” At the top of his lungs because the shapes cartoon has been interrupted by a commercial. Your husband comes down to a floor strewn with pots and pans and the youngest screaming. You’re eyes burn. Take a sip of coffee. Start singing and putting back the pots and pans while telling the 3 year old that we’re only using ONE pan for the omelette. The two year old is still pissed about the ad. After breakfast, you need to bathe the two year old because he’s covered with omelette. Now you have dishes. “Bye!” Says your husband, and holy shit…you feel soooooo jealous. I’m on my phone for the FIRST time all day and it’s now 9:45 AT NIGHT. I can assume I have about one hour to chill before one or the other wakes up. That’s it. I need to get off my phone soon, because now…laundry awaits. There is NO off time. My husband, however, has been chilling after dinner for the last several hours. Why? He works. Me? No, I don’t “work.” See why women bail on this? I won’t because I care about my legacy but some days I want to just lay down and go the mother fuck to sleep.

It’s just that traditional feminine roles are…fucking BRUTAL, son. BRUTAL. 24 hours a day, all day, every day, with no rest, no relaxation, sleep deprivation…it’s fucking intense. For example…your son is almost two and he’s started having night terrors, as most do at this age. He’s currently sharing a room with your 3 year old, so when the two year old wakes up screaming at 2:37am, this means the 3 year old wakes up, as well. You finally get them both back to sleep around 4am, and you just bring the 2 year old to bed with you. Your husband is snoring, so you have trouble going back to sleep, and the two year old kicks soooo much. You drift off around 6, and the 45 mins of sleep you get is worse then nothing because when the 3 year old wakes you up at 7, your eyes feel like they’re being dragged into shreds by sandpaper eyelids. This has been going on for a little over 3 years now. Your Fit-Watch has you at an average of 4 hours of sleep per night, and your sleep score is 32. It’s been this way for 3 years. Nonetheless! You start pounding coffee while you dress the 3 year old. The morning begins with a fight. He wants to wear the puppy shirt. The baby vomited on the puppy shirt yesterday, though. Ok! Redirect! “Oh, the puppies are still sleeping and they’re so yucky…they’re taking a morning bath! Let’s pick…how about the DINOSAUR shirt, or the BASEBALL shirt?” The 3 year old’s lip begins to quiver. “Puuuuupppppies!!!!” “HEY BUDDY, will you please wear me today? I miss you and I want to go out!” You make the dinosaur shirt talk and plead. Just as the 3 year old begins to slowly smile, you hear a cry from the other room. Fuck fuck fuck. You run to get the baby before he wakes up your husband. Unfortunately, the 3 year old begins to sob because his dinosaur shirt abruptly stopped speaking. You’re so tired you see the floor dip and you almost fall while stumbling in the early morning light to go get the baby. This is the first 10 minutes of your day. Wait until they start fighting because one didn’t high five the snowman. This is all day, every day, non stop, 24/7. It’s just that working is so, so, so, so much fucking easier. You get lunch breaks and bathroom breaks and you can talk to adults. You are taking the kids to the slides today. You have to make breakfast so you have the 3 year old “help,” but when you turn around after beating the eggs, he’s removes ALL of the pots and pans instead of the pan and spatula you gave him. Now the kitchen floor is strewn with pots and pans. The two year old has started yelling “AD!AD!” At the top of his lungs because the shapes cartoon has been interrupted by a commercial. Your husband comes down to a floor strewn with pots and pans and the youngest screaming. You’re eyes burn. Take a sip of coffee. Start singing and putting back the pots and pans while telling the 3 year old that we’re only using ONE pan for the omelette. The two year old is still pissed about the ad. After breakfast, you need to bathe the two year old because he’s covered with omelette. Now you have dishes. “Bye!” Says your husband, and holy shit…you feel soooooo jealous. I’m on my phone for the FIRST time all day and it’s now 9:45. I can assume I have about one hour to chill before one or the other wakes up. That’s it. I need to get off my phone soon, because now…laundry awaits. There is NO off time. My husband, however, has been chilling after dinner for the last several hours. Why? He works. Me? No, I don’t “work.” See why women bail on this? I won’t because I care about my legacy but some days I want to just lay down and go the mother fuck to sleep.

It’s just that traditional feminine roles are…fucking BRUTAL, son. BRUTAL. 24 hours a day, all day, every day, with no rest, no relaxation, sleep deprivation…it’s fucking intense. For example…your son is almost two and he’s started having night terrors, as most do at this age. He’s currently sharing a room with your 3 year old, so when the two year old wakes up screaming at 2:37am, this means the 3 year old wakes up, as well. You finally get them both back to sleep around 4am, and you just bring the 2 year old to bed with you. Your husband is snoring, so you have trouble going back to sleep, and the two year old kicks soooo much. You drift off around 6, and the 45 mins of sleep you get is worse then nothing because when the 3 year old wakes you up at 7, your eyes feel like they’re being dragged into shreds by sandpaper eyelids. This has been going on for a little over 3 years now. Your Fit-Watch has you at an average of 4 hours of sleep per night, and your sleep score is 32. It’s been this way for 3 years. Nonetheless! You start pounding coffee while you dress the 3 year old. The morning begins with a fight. He wants to wear the puppy shirt. The baby vomited on the puppy shirt yesterday, though. Ok! Redirect! “Oh, the puppies are still sleeping and they’re so yucky…they’re taking a morning bath! Let’s pick…how about the DINOSAUR shirt, or the BASEBALL shirt?” The 3 year old’s lip begins to quiver. “Puuuuupppppies!!!!” “HEY BUDDY, will you please wear me today? I miss you and I want to go out!” You make the dinosaur shirt talk and plead. Just as the 3 year old begins to slowly smile, you hear a cry from the other room. Fuck fuck fuck. You run to get the baby before he wakes up your husband. Unfortunately, the 3 year old begins to sob because his dinosaur shirt abruptly stopped speaking. You’re so tired you see the floor dip and you almost fall while stumbling in the early morning light to go get the baby. This is the first 10 minutes of your day. Wait until they start fighting because one didn’t high five the snowman. This is all day, every day, non stop, 24/7. It’s just that working is so, so, so, so much fucking easier. You get lunch breaks and bathroom breaks and you can talk to adults. You are taking the kids to the slides today. You have to make breakfast so you have the 3 year old “help,” but when you turn around after beating the eggs, he’s removes ALL of the pots and pans instead of the pan and spatula you gave him. Now the kitchen floor is strewn with pots and pans. The two year old has started yelling “AD!AD!” At the top of his lungs because the shapes cartoon has been interrupted by a commercial. Your husband comes down to a floor strewn with pots and pans and the youngest screaming. You’re eyes burn. Take a sip of coffee. Start singing and putting back the pots and pans while telling the 3 year old that we’re only using ONE pan for the omelette. The two year old is still pissed about the ad. After breakfast, you need to bathe the two year old because he’s covered with omelette. Now you have dishes. “Bye!” Says your husband, and holy shit…you feel soooooo jealous.

It’s just that traditional feminine roles are…fucking BRUTAL, son. BRUTAL. 24 hours a day, all day, every day, with no rest, no relaxation, sleep deprivation…it’s fucking intense. For example…your son is almost two and he’s started having night terrors, as most do at this age. He’s currently sharing a room with your 3 year old, so when the two year old wakes up screaming at 2:37am, this means the 3 year old wakes up, as well. You finally get them both back to sleep around 4am, and you just bring the 2 year old to bed with you. Your husband is snoring, so you have trouble going back to sleep, and the two year old kicks soooo much. You drift off around 6, and the 45 mins of sleep you get is worse then nothing because when the 3 year old wakes you up at 7, your eyes feel like they’re being dragged into shreds by sandpaper eyelids. This has been going on for a little over 3 years now. Your Fit-Watch has you at an average of 4 hours of sleep per night, and your sleep score is 32. It’s been this way for 3 years. Nonetheless! You start pounding coffee while you dress the 3 year old. The morning begins with a fight. He wants to wear the puppy shirt. The baby vomited on the puppy shirt yesterday, though. Ok! Redirect! “Oh, the puppies are still sleeping and they’re so yucky…they’re taking a morning bath! Let’s pick…how about the DINOSAUR shirt, or the BASEBALL shirt?” The 3 year old’s lip begins to quiver. “Puuuuupppppies!!!!” “HEY BUDDY, will you please wear me today? I miss you and I want to go out!” You make the dinosaur shirt talk and plead. Just as the 3 year old begins to slowly smile, you hear a cry from the other room. Fuck fuck fuck. You run to get the baby before he wakes up your husband. Unfortunately, the 3 year old begins to sob because his dinosaur shirt abruptly stopped speaking. You’re so tired you see the floor dip and you almost fall while stumbling in the early morning light to go get the baby. This is the first 10 minutes of your day. Wait until they start fighting because one didn’t high five the snowman. This is all day, every day, non stop, 24/7. It’s just that working is so, so, so, so much fucking easier. You get lunch breaks and bathroom breaks and you can talk to adults.