Being a mom of small children can be the most thankless job. The hours are impossible (like 24/7, 365 days of the year), the pay is nonexistent, and your bosses totally take you for granted. We all deserve much more praise than we’re ever likely to receive during the almost two decades we’ll spend raising our children from tiny babies to (hopefully) self-sufficient legal adults ready to fly from our nests. There aren’t enough “Best Mom Ever” mugs in the world to commemorate the work we do; this we all know.
But there’s one time, and one time alone, when I totally resent being called out as a highly capable parent, and that’s when it’s my equally capable husband asking me to get one of our kids in the bath, to make them another grilled cheese, or to pick up the toys they’ve sprinkled all over the living room floor because I’m so good at it — much better than him, he’ll say pleadingly — so it obviously makes sense for me to do it . . . again and again and again.
Yes, sweet husband, I absolutely am a good mom,…
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