Why are women who sit with children treated worse than servants?
Someone will say, they say, he is furious with fat. The husband at least brings a salary, but he does not drive you to work. There are also such cases – the father of the family insists that the young mother do something else besides the children in order to bring money to the family. As if maternity is not money. And as if she lost her earnings of her own free will. Children were made together, right? Nevertheless, the young mother was boiling, and she … Surely among our readers there will be those who agree with her position.
“Recently, my husband’s relatives came to visit us for dinner: his sister and her husband. We sat at the table and had a very pleasant time: delicious food, laughter, casual conversation. In general, complete relaxation. That is, they were spending their time this way. At that time I was in some kind of parallel universe. I split the chicken into convenient pieces, spread butter on the bread, pulled out “that nasty raisins” from the muffins, wiped my mouths, moved chairs, picked up pencils from the floor, answered a bunch of questions to our two children, went to the toilet with the children (and when them, and when I needed them), wiped spilled milk off the floor. Did I manage to eat anything hot? The question is rhetorical.
If the three of me and the children were to have dinner, I would take all this fuss for granted. But there were three more people sitting at the table with me. Completely healthy, efficient, not paralyzed and not blind. No, maybe their temporary paralysis was enough, I don’t know. But I suppose that with them everything was all right. Neither of them lifted a finger to help me. It feels like we are sitting in the same limousine, but a soundproof opaque partition separates me and the children from them.
To be honest, it seemed to me that I was present at some other dinner. In hell.
Why does it seem normal for everyone to treat mom like a servant, nanny and housekeeper all rolled into one? After all, I spin like a squirrel in a wheel 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and without lunch breaks. And at the same time, no salary, of course. And you know, if I had a babysitter, I would treat her better than my own family treats me. I would at least try to give her time to sleep and eat.
Yes, I am the main parent. But it’s not the only one! It’s not so much magic and magic to wipe a child’s face. I’m not the only one who can read fairy tales aloud. I am sure that children are able to enjoy playing blocks with someone other than me. But nobody is interested in it. I have to.
It’s hard for me to say who is to blame for being treated this way. Everything in my family works the same way. The father will enthusiastically talk with his adored son-in-law, not paying absolutely any attention to the fact that while my mother and I were washing the dishes, the child pulled a dish of cakes from the table, and they scattered across the floor.
My own husband prefers the role of an amiable host, which he gladly plays in front of adults. But he does not like the role of his father during our joint exits from the house. And it just pisses me off. It is possible, of course, that the whole problem is actually me. Maybe I should just stop coping with my duties, which were so high on me?
For example, I could cook dinner not for six people, but for three. Oh, didn’t the guests have enough food? What a pity. Would you like a pizza?
How, at the table there was not enough chair for mom? Oh, what to do? She’ll have to wait in the car.
Or at family dinner, I could pretend I was poisoned and just lock myself in the bathroom. I could say that I need to go to bed, and let someone else take care of the preparations for the walk.