And yet, I am profoundly unfree.

I am not sure that the opposite of self-less is self-ish, nor that either precisely describes our roles pre or post children, or domesticating vs. art-making, but they are terms worth getting to the bottom of. Also, I think of my art-making time as a hinge as well– when I chose to prioritize it, I also think I am showing my son (and anyone’s son, and anyone’s daughter) that art, writing, creative-making is worthy and necessary of attention. And not at the expense of the rest of my life.

Tolstoy’s wife wrote in her journal:

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This morning I got a text that woke me from my husband ( who thankfully is employed and went to work at 6:00am). The text, with an attached picture read, “The cat threw up in the hall way. Here is a picture of it so you don’t step in it.” I’m not sure I have to comment further…my life is exactly like yours. Thank you for putting it into words. I find it empowering. and hilarious.. and depressing .. all at once. You are my hero.

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Hey Rufi, thank you! You struck so many chords with my own sentiments. I am a mother of 2 daughters (one11 year old and one 3 weeks old, yes, the 11 year gap). I am a full time teacher/researcher on study leave for 2 measly two months, which, is a privilege already in my country. Husband is away for his PhD, and we basically only chat on video during wee hours when he is studying and while I am breastfeeding. Life is certainly a roller coaster. How do I channel my sentiments and rant with my days at home when he is also battling daily with his studies and his professors, nope. Just thankful I don’t need pick-up his underwear though. The challenge is when the maternity leave is over…..Keep on writing. You are an inspiration. I’m sharing your essay!

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What shocks me in the article, and in many of the comments below, is how husbands, men partners, should we say, are not considered partners at all in the family life, but part of the list of tasks.
Even more shocking to me, the acceptation of all the women, who pick up dirty underwear, make dinner because the poor men can’t learn, and do all the child-caring and things related to school. Is it possible things are that difficult because you’re doing them alone? And is it possible you don’t want to share? As the writer was saying, she actually wants to deal with the school minutiae by herself.

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Please– leave the underwear on the bathroom floor.

We all hate responding to the types of questions typically ask. "Why do you want to become a nurse practitioner?" and "Talk about a time you overcame a challenge" can be difficult questions to answer...eloquently at least. Responding by saying "so you can and aren't sure what else to do with your life" isn't going to cut it.

“Nothing’s happening to me,” I bemoan to Annie. “I need to go shoot an elephant.”

I love you. So perfectly written.

Male writers have often had children, but they have often famously refused to bend to them. On her twelfth birthday, Faulkner’s daughter asked him not to get drunk, and he refused, telling her, “No one remembers Shakespeare’s children.”

You’ve written everything in this essay. I love it more than I am able to express.

Beautifully written and so precise. THANK YOU, just perfect.

Ruti–
I am a writer and mother of two (ages 4 and 1), and your essay brought up so much for me. I understand the sheer amount of work to do, the nursing and interrupted sleep, the details and mundanity and constant wiping of tables and floors and faces.